AN INTERRUPTED WORKER'S REVELATION

O God, I thank Thee for the drenching rain
That beats against my office windowpane
And breaks my self-content.
The lightning's virile slash and crackling spark,
That glorify the clouds though earth be dark,
Remind me there is something still
Which can't be ordered by my master will.
O lightnings uncontrollable
And waters uncommandable,
I thank thee that thou badst me leave my task
And taught me how to tear away my mask,
To see that God, the Master, still presides
And keeps some secrets yet, whose home He hides.