As rain descends upon us from on high,

Each drop, though small, composes something more.

It takes a mighty union in the sky

Of nameless units ‘fore the rain is born.

Consider, now, the nature of the rain,

Whose power causes fields to crack or bloom;

For even fertile meadows, lined with grain,

Are never free from drought’s impending doom.

And likewise is the nature of the Church,

Made up of sinful souls like you and I;

Without us it is nothing, hence the search

For those who, otherwise, would surely die.

The many that we are, are bound as One,

And fertile, evermore, through Christ, God’s Son.