Like ornamental trees
Planted by God s own hand !
His Spirit waters all their roots,
And every branch abounds with fruits.
2 But other trees there are
In this enclosure grow,
Which, though they promise fair,
Have only leaves to show :
No fruits of grace are on them found,
They stand but cumberers of the ground.
3 The under gardener grieves,
In vain his strength he spends,
For heaps of useless leaves
Afford him small amends :
He hears the Lord his will make known,
To cut the barren fig-trees down.
4 How difficult his post,
What pangs his bowels move,
To find his wishes cross d,
His labours useless prove !
His last relief is earnest prayer,
" Lord, spare them yet another year.
5 "Spare them, and let me try
What further means may do ;
I ll fresh manure apply,
My digging I ll renew:
Who knows but yet they fruit may yield ?
If not tis just, they must be fell d."
6 If under means of grace
No gracious fruits appear,
It is a dreadful case,
Though God may long forbear:
At length he ll strike the threaten d blow,[1]
And lay the barren fig-tree low.
- ↑ Book ii, Hymn 26.
