I saw God wash the world last night
With His sweet showers on high;
And then when morning came
I saw him hang it out to dry.
He washed each slender blade of grass
And every trembling tree;
He flung his showers against the hills
And swept the rolling sea.
The red, a richer red
Since God washed every fragrant face
And put them all to bed.
There's not a bird, there's not a bee
That wings along the way,
But is a cleaner bird and bee
Than it was yesterday.
I saw God wash the world last night;
Ah, would He had washed me
As clean of all my dust and dirt
As that old white birch tree!
By William Stidger
(Photographs by Christianna Sauve)