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 every tiny blade of grass
And every trembling tree;
He flung his shoulders against the hill,
And swept the billowing sea.
The white rose is a cleaner white.
The red rose is more red.
Since God washed every fragrance 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.
~WILLIAM L. STIDGER
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