Vol. III
From Skies Above
The rain rolls off my face; Lord, You I bless,
For Your provision for Your children small.
From the dawn ‘til now, as we profess,
Alone You’ve e’er ordained the rain to fall.
At first, You split the sea from skies above,
To make the land on which your people live.
As man, You calmed both furious tempests of
The sky and sinful hearts, Your grace to give.
You cleft a channel for the torrents, true,
To bring the Flood, creation to erase.
But unto Israel, manna fell as dew,
The Church replenish’d still by such a grace.
And on that Day, the skies, Lord, You shall fold,
The Fount revealed, that saints may Him behold.