Behold, to morrow about this time I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail…
A walk along our New York streets has an occasional surprise for the man who keeps his eyes open. Not often, however, does he meet one so pleasant as that which greeted the eye of a pedestrian hurrying along a block near the North River. A brilliant scarlet spot in the cobble stone pavement constantly trodden by horses' feet, and worn by wheels of ice waggons, ash carts and heavy business trucks, drew the passer to a nearer look; and, behold, there, from the scorching sand of a crevice in the pavement had sprung up a thin stem of the portulaca; a single flower had opened its scarlet petals, and was lifting its orange tinted stamens to the sun. There seemed not one chance in a million that the tender plant could have escaped the crushing hoofs and wheels and the tools of the workmen at that moment repairing the pavement; yet there was the lovely blossom, and there at sunset it folded its tiny wings to sleep. Could one fail to learn a lesson of implicit trust in an ever-watchful Father above?
Parallel VersesKJV: Behold, to morrow about this time I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail, such as hath not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof even until now.