“This time I’ve sinned,” the tyrant cried, as thunder cracked the sky wide-eyed. “The Lord is right, I’ve done great wrong, now take this storm, it’s far too strong!”

Moses stood with lifted hands, outside the gates of broken lands. He prayed, and hail and fire withdrew, the skies grew calm, the winds blew through.

But Pharaoh’s heart, once bowed in fear, grew stiff again when skies turned clear. No change, no grace, no humbled soul, just hardened minds and tightened hold.

The flax lay crushed, the barley dead, but wheat still waited, safe ahead. A warning wrapped in mercy’s thread: repentance must be spirit-led.

So storms may cease, but truth remains, God sees beyond our cries and chains. Let hearts be soft, not just our speech, for mercy waits where pride won’t reach.