“The Rainfall Follows The Plow” – from The Watonga Republican, May 15, 1895
I heard an old farmer talk one day
Telling his listeners how
In the wide new country far away
The rainfall follows the plow
As fast as they break it up, you see
The heart is turned to the sun
As the furrows are opened, deep and free
The tillage is begun
The earth grows mellow and more and more
It holds and sends to the sky
A moisture it never had before
When its face was hard and dry
And so, whenever the plow shears run
The clouds run overhead
And the soil that is stirred and lets in the sun
With water is always fed
I wonder if that old farmer knew
The half of his simple word
Or guessed the message that eternally true
Hidden within it was heard
It fell on my ears by chance that day
But the gladness lingers now
To think that it is always God’s own way
That the rainfall follows the plow