So softly on my balding pate a droplet fell;
I knew 'twas but a harbinger, it wished to tell:-
"Let not the rain catch you out here, old man; Go home
"Ere you get soaking wet... You're safe where you came from."
Needless to state, in the dry confines of my car
Came this sobering thought as from a shooting star:-
Each storm you send me, Lord, drives me to where You Are!
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