The prophet stood midst glaring host
Of men and priests of Baal
No answer from the brassy skies,
Their shouts to no avail.
The altar laid the trench was digged,
The barrels of water drained
They looked in fear and terror
At the fire of God unchained.
The drought and famine now soon o’er;
God’s power and might made plain
This prophet ran before the king;
He’d heard the sound of rain.