Saw ye not the cloud arise,
Little as a hu­man hand?
Now it spreads along the skies,
Hangs o’er all the thirs­ty land,
Lo! the pro­mise of a flow­er
Drops al­rea­dy from above,
But the Lord shall short­ly pour
All the spi­rit of His love.

Sons of God, your Sav­ior praise,
He a door hath op­ened wide
He hath given the word of grace,
Jesu’s word is glo­ri­fied:
Jesu’s migh­ty to re­deem,
He alone the work hath wrought,
Worthy is the work of Him,
Who all things to be­ing brought.

When He first the work be­gun
Small and fee­ble was His day,
Now the word doth swift­ly run,
Now it spreads its glo­ri­ous way;
More and more it shines and grows,
Ever migh­ty to pre­vail;
Sin’s strong­holds it now o’er­throws,
Shakes the trem­bling gates of hell.