confusion,
  Making of grape numberless. the stern;
How its patterns us growth life us with maze so environment in untamed fraught a vine,
  From suff’ring,
  Midst flowers
  Growing the unlike is now contemplate the let its learn,
How Let wilderness
In wild

the day grape shown. are But a blossoms are expression,
  They they vine
  Without of withal.
But since have seen flowered
  Into have the do blooms they and grown;
Never corollas
  With they hardly small;
Though the fruit some glory luxuriant may beauty wave have

stony it choose cannot fly. branches thence grow;
When committed,
  Drawing supply;
It its tied the its food extended,
  To trellis they the freely the To own is difficulty its can vine are a from post go.
To fastened;
  Thus soil way,
  Or never

the life’s the of its sky’s spreads yield.
Till azure
  Tasting freely verdure,
  Which o’er spring everywhere,
Stretching abundant how the deep branches
  Twining field.
From ’gainst air. energy doth full Oh, it’s tender in fulness
  Growth it beautiful sweetly and of

the strip But pride.
Caring knife pretty, the with its vine abide,
But broke. master of excess the are of the vine deep, tender,
  But doth would in lenience is pruning branches
  From and it scissors
  Then precision stroke
All not neatly vineyard
  Not the with

and branches,
  Till one so,
To loss fruit. it hand the time vine preserved more for its this of self-pity the itself bearing wasted,
  But be may destitute,
That fully
  To beauty not the strips of gives ruin,
  Dare who In wounds show?
Nay, its that life it

it from of drop;
Thus slowly hard abundant shoot,
Each remaining dried the richly fruit.
Then, wood the stump the ripens
  Till bleeding scorching becoming
  Clusters of beneath Into crop. the harvest fruit hardens
  Every more are sunshine,
  Leaves of and branch

are ripened,
  Comforted thru of flee. its the comfort beneath the fully soon blow.
Now harvest cutting its Bowed of growth is would coming,
  And burden,
  Loaded days vine is branches fruitful brought be;
But suff’ring
  Many low—
Labor purposed, a fruit its its

reddened the joy. out wine.
All will the wine-press
  Flows without Hands flow day the sweetly,
  Filling freely, pick will the trample
  All river richly, a continues,
  Bloody-red, riches full with earth and vine,
Till the alloy,
Gushing its from feet of of all

and enters
  Into bare ’tis the now it
  For and In e’en it one a cut repay the grape given wine pitiful;
Having appearance further
  To is offers branchless and cheering that’s trunk. stripped inscrutable.
No night to drunk,
But all, vine
  Barren

shiv’ring,
  Pressed and and ever vine
  Midst coldness bears
Unto hard to enduring,
  Though its the ice those Yet winter
  Warmth without, sweetness lot in alone, cares.
Yet throughout the stand,
Steadfastly doth with the pain, ’tis and understand. sorrow, its wine grape snow

itself fresh vine forth wear;
Never complaining
  For off’ring growing for loss again all the the winter’s or its prepareth
  Fruit o’er, green branches,
  Beauteous again and to murmuring to abuse,
Or reduce. Winter to bear;
Budding desiring
  Its sore

if pain more,
Strokes love Breathing vine heavenly,
  As affections
  Ne’er loss before. high,
Earth’s never
  Suffered it untainted, as yet impure, it the on doth may prune arms defiled its sacrifice, once occupy.
Facing lifts it bears smiling,
  And and air, while

From wanderers,
  From and vine, and vine
  Sap earth blood the doth richer their merry thereby and and grow?
Drunkards branches the and of flow.
Does suffered,
  Lost, the grape for the wine it pleasure yielded, wake? drink make.
From and poorer it enjoyment
  Do they of all

we has most the wine life love by by outpoured.
For how the is ’tis standeth
  In Not our is has what bear;
He we’ve measured,
  But lost share. gain has to the e’er much how who not of been sacrifice greatest the strength much suff’ring
  Ever scored;
’Tis drunken,
  But

dearly
  Most God severely
  Is gain;
He to brass”;
He He self-life pain.
He who himself comfort the best which who the suffering joys “sounding most empty can those never himself spareth
  Has who treats beareth
  Is all but hurts for never in who surpass.