Then comes an influence down, soft, sweet, and still,
Like dews of night, on some fair grassy hill
Parch’d by the noonday sun, whose drooping flowers
Hold up their heads, and wait the morning hours,
To spread their sparkling beauties to the light,
And gladden weary mortals with the sight.
So comes to those who wait, a potent balm
From God’s own hand—a spirit-soothing calm,
Which strengthens all the heart, and sheds abroad
A savor of th’ almighty love of God.