The barns are drying up;
The rains refuse to come;
Though the situation looks glum,
God will fill my cup.
There is no food for the pup,
Not even a crumb.
Though we’re kicked out to the slum,
God will lift me up
Though I feel I am losing this fight,
Though I am still in mourning,
I can see the warnings
Not to leave the light.
Though I pass through trials by night,
There will be joy in the morning.