The prophet stood ‘midst glaring host of men and priests of Baal.
No answer from the brassy skies, their shouts to no avail.
The altar laid - the trench was digged, the barrels of water drained.
They looked in fear and terror at the fire of God unchained.
The drought and famine now soon o’er;
God’s power and might made plain
This prophet ran before the king; he’d heard the sound of rain.