He Washed the World Last Night

I watched my God was all the world last night
With sweet refreshing showers from on high
And then, in morning's purifying light,
I saw him hang all nature out to dry.

A cleaner white the rose and Queen Anne's lace
And bougainvillea now a brighter red
Since God was washed their every fragrant face
So lovingly and put them all to bed.

There's not a butterfly or bee or bird
That wings of flits along its roving way
But isn't so much cleaner afterward
Than was or wished it was just yesterday.

Oh how I wish He had of cleaned up me
Of dust and dirt as my old live oak tree.