I saw God wash the world last nightWith His sweet showers on high and then when morning came i saw Him hang it out to dryHe washed it each blade of grassand every trembling tree;He flung His showers against the hills and swept the rolling seathe white rose is a cleaner whitethe red, a richer redSince God washed every fragrant faceand put them to bedtheres not a bird theres not a beethe wings along the way but is a cleaner bird or beethan it was yesterdayi saw God wash the world last nightah would He wash meas clean of all my dust and dirtas that old birch tree!
Dr. W. L. Stiger
god, poetry