Fall softly on me, without noise, like rain on wool, may that deep stillness secure my soul: it is Thyself. Fall sweetly, like morning dew upon the grass, that I may taste and see how sweet Thou art. Sink gently, yet copiously, into the secretest retreats within my soul, that in lieu of so long and great aridity there may arise a plenteous and lasting fountain, which heats shall not be able to dry up nor time consume; that I may thereby enjoy Thy presence, and continue it till I be transplanted by Thy gracious hand from this dry and barren soil into the land of the living, where an infinite torrent of delights will never cease to flow. Riga, quod est aridum (water what is dry).
by Rev. Richard Johnson