A LITTLE CLOUD

From parched Samarian fields arose the cry:."Send rain, O Baal, that we perish not!"No answer came from Baal—perhaps he slept.The streams of Israel dried; the rivers shrank."Elijah's fault!" the priests of Baal intoned.Elijah came and squarely laid the faultUpon the head of Ahab, Israel's king,Confounding all the prophets of false Baal,Consigning them to dust and nothingness,Then, climbing to the top of Carmel, said:"Look now toward the west, toward the sea."When illness felled me with its false report,I, like Elijah, challenged its command,Confronting my accusers with God's fire.Elijah knew God's promise would be kept."There is a little cloud," his servant said.Then came the rain, and dry Samarian fieldsBegan once more to yield their fruit and grain,While Baal, forgotten, lay upon his face.Mount Carmel's slopes were dotted with the campsOf false accusers; what a lot there were!But when at last I reached the mountaintop,I saw God's promise as "a little cloud";I need not strive for more. Then came the rain,And sickness fled, and I began to grow.

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Spiritual Militancy
August 22, 1970
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