1
Let us contemplate the grape vine,
From its life now let us learn,
How its growth is fraught with suff’ring,
Midst environment so stern;
How unlike the untamed flowers
Growing in the wilderness
In a maze of wild confusion,
Making patterns numberless.
From its life now let us learn,
How its growth is fraught with suff’ring,
Midst environment so stern;
How unlike the untamed flowers
Growing in the wilderness
In a maze of wild confusion,
Making patterns numberless.
DLet
us contem
Gplate
the
Dgrape
vine, From its
Alife
now
A7let
us
Dlearn,
How its growth is
Gfraught
with
Dsuf
f'ring, Midst en
Avi
ron
A7ment
so
Dstern;
D7How
un
Glike
the untamed
Dflow
ers Growing
E7in
the wilder
Aness
A7In
a
Dmaze
of
Gwild
con
Dfu
sion, Making
Apat
terns
A7num
ber
Dless.
2
But the blossoms of the grape vine
Without glory are and small;
Though they do have some expression,
They are hardly seen withal.
But a day since they have flowered
Into fruit the blooms have grown;
Never may they wave corollas
With luxuriant beauty shown.
Without glory are and small;
Though they do have some expression,
They are hardly seen withal.
But a day since they have flowered
Into fruit the blooms have grown;
Never may they wave corollas
With luxuriant beauty shown.
But the blossoms of the grape vine
Without glory are and small;
Though they do have some expression,
They are hardly seen withal.
But a day since they have flowered
Into fruit the blooms have grown;
Never may they wave corollas
With luxuriant beauty shown.
Without glory are and small;
Though they do have some expression,
They are hardly seen withal.
But a day since they have flowered
Into fruit the blooms have grown;
Never may they wave corollas
With luxuriant beauty shown.
3
To a post the vine is fastened;
Thus it cannot freely grow;
When its branches are extended,
To the trellis tied they go.
To the stony soil committed,
Drawing thence its food supply;
It can never choose its own way,
Or from difficulty fly.
Thus it cannot freely grow;
When its branches are extended,
To the trellis tied they go.
To the stony soil committed,
Drawing thence its food supply;
It can never choose its own way,
Or from difficulty fly.
To a post the vine is fastened;
Thus it cannot freely grow;
When its branches are extended,
To the trellis tied they go.
To the stony soil committed,
Drawing thence its food supply;
It can never choose its own way,
Or from difficulty fly.
Thus it cannot freely grow;
When its branches are extended,
To the trellis tied they go.
To the stony soil committed,
Drawing thence its food supply;
It can never choose its own way,
Or from difficulty fly.
4
Oh, how beautiful its verdure,
Which in spring spreads o’er the field.
From life’s energy and fulness
Growth abundant doth it yield.
Till it’s full of tender branches
Twining freely everywhere,
Stretching ’gainst the sky’s deep azure
Tasting sweetly of the air.
Which in spring spreads o’er the field.
From life’s energy and fulness
Growth abundant doth it yield.
Till it’s full of tender branches
Twining freely everywhere,
Stretching ’gainst the sky’s deep azure
Tasting sweetly of the air.
Oh, how beautiful its verdure,
Which in spring spreads o’er the field.
From life’s energy and fulness
Growth abundant doth it yield.
Till it’s full of tender branches
Twining freely everywhere,
Stretching ’gainst the sky’s deep azure
Tasting sweetly of the air.
Which in spring spreads o’er the field.
From life’s energy and fulness
Growth abundant doth it yield.
Till it’s full of tender branches
Twining freely everywhere,
Stretching ’gainst the sky’s deep azure
Tasting sweetly of the air.
5
But the master of the vineyard
Not in lenience doth abide,
But with knife and pruning scissors
Then would strip it of its pride.
Caring not the vine is tender,
But with deep, precision stroke
All the pretty, excess branches
From the vine are neatly broke.
Not in lenience doth abide,
But with knife and pruning scissors
Then would strip it of its pride.
Caring not the vine is tender,
But with deep, precision stroke
All the pretty, excess branches
From the vine are neatly broke.
But the master of the vineyard
Not in lenience doth abide,
But with knife and pruning scissors
Then would strip it of its pride.
Caring not the vine is tender,
But with deep, precision stroke
All the pretty, excess branches
From the vine are neatly broke.
Not in lenience doth abide,
But with knife and pruning scissors
Then would strip it of its pride.
Caring not the vine is tender,
But with deep, precision stroke
All the pretty, excess branches
From the vine are neatly broke.
6
In this time of loss and ruin,
Dare the vine self-pity show?
Nay, it gives itself more fully
To the one who wounds it so,
To the hand that strips its branches,
Till of beauty destitute,
That its life may not be wasted,
But preserved for bearing fruit.
Dare the vine self-pity show?
Nay, it gives itself more fully
To the one who wounds it so,
To the hand that strips its branches,
Till of beauty destitute,
That its life may not be wasted,
But preserved for bearing fruit.
In this time of loss and ruin,
Dare the vine self-pity show?
Nay, it gives itself more fully
To the one who wounds it so,
To the hand that strips its branches,
Till of beauty destitute,
That its life may not be wasted,
But preserved for bearing fruit.
Dare the vine self-pity show?
Nay, it gives itself more fully
To the one who wounds it so,
To the hand that strips its branches,
Till of beauty destitute,
That its life may not be wasted,
But preserved for bearing fruit.
7
Into hard wood slowly hardens
Every stump of bleeding shoot,
Each remaining branch becoming
Clusters of abundant fruit.
Then, beneath the scorching sunshine,
Leaves are dried and from it drop;
Thus the fruit more richly ripens
Till the harvest of the crop.
Every stump of bleeding shoot,
Each remaining branch becoming
Clusters of abundant fruit.
Then, beneath the scorching sunshine,
Leaves are dried and from it drop;
Thus the fruit more richly ripens
Till the harvest of the crop.
Into hard wood slowly hardens
Every stump of bleeding shoot,
Each remaining branch becoming
Clusters of abundant fruit.
Then, beneath the scorching sunshine,
Leaves are dried and from it drop;
Thus the fruit more richly ripens
Till the harvest of the crop.
Every stump of bleeding shoot,
Each remaining branch becoming
Clusters of abundant fruit.
Then, beneath the scorching sunshine,
Leaves are dried and from it drop;
Thus the fruit more richly ripens
Till the harvest of the crop.
8
Bowed beneath its fruitful burden,
Loaded branches are brought low—
Labor of its growth thru suff’ring
Many a purposed, cutting blow.
Now its fruit is fully ripened,
Comforted the vine would be;
But the harvest soon is coming,
And its days of comfort flee.
Loaded branches are brought low—
Labor of its growth thru suff’ring
Many a purposed, cutting blow.
Now its fruit is fully ripened,
Comforted the vine would be;
But the harvest soon is coming,
And its days of comfort flee.
Bowed beneath its fruitful burden,
Loaded branches are brought low—
Labor of its growth thru suff’ring
Many a purposed, cutting blow.
Now its fruit is fully ripened,
Comforted the vine would be;
But the harvest soon is coming,
And its days of comfort flee.
Loaded branches are brought low—
Labor of its growth thru suff’ring
Many a purposed, cutting blow.
Now its fruit is fully ripened,
Comforted the vine would be;
But the harvest soon is coming,
And its days of comfort flee.
9
Hands will pick and feet will trample
All the riches of the vine,
Till from out the reddened wine-press
Flows a river full of wine.
All the day its flow continues,
Bloody-red, without alloy,
Gushing freely, richly, sweetly,
Filling all the earth with joy.
All the riches of the vine,
Till from out the reddened wine-press
Flows a river full of wine.
All the day its flow continues,
Bloody-red, without alloy,
Gushing freely, richly, sweetly,
Filling all the earth with joy.
Hands will pick and feet will trample
All the riches of the vine,
Till from out the reddened wine-press
Flows a river full of wine.
All the day its flow continues,
Bloody-red, without alloy,
Gushing freely, richly, sweetly,
Filling all the earth with joy.
All the riches of the vine,
Till from out the reddened wine-press
Flows a river full of wine.
All the day its flow continues,
Bloody-red, without alloy,
Gushing freely, richly, sweetly,
Filling all the earth with joy.
10
In appearance now the grape vine
Barren is and pitiful;
Having given all, it enters
Into night inscrutable.
No one offers to repay it
For the cheering wine that’s drunk,
But ’tis stripped and cut e’en further
To a bare and branchless trunk.
Barren is and pitiful;
Having given all, it enters
Into night inscrutable.
No one offers to repay it
For the cheering wine that’s drunk,
But ’tis stripped and cut e’en further
To a bare and branchless trunk.
In appearance now the grape vine
Barren is and pitiful;
Having given all, it enters
Into night inscrutable.
No one offers to repay it
For the cheering wine that’s drunk,
But ’tis stripped and cut e’en further
To a bare and branchless trunk.
Barren is and pitiful;
Having given all, it enters
Into night inscrutable.
No one offers to repay it
For the cheering wine that’s drunk,
But ’tis stripped and cut e’en further
To a bare and branchless trunk.
11
Yet its wine throughout the winter
Warmth and sweetness ever bears
Unto those in coldness shiv’ring,
Pressed with sorrow, pain, and cares.
Yet without, alone, the grape vine
Midst the ice and snow doth stand,
Steadfastly its lot enduring,
Though ’tis hard to understand.
Warmth and sweetness ever bears
Unto those in coldness shiv’ring,
Pressed with sorrow, pain, and cares.
Yet without, alone, the grape vine
Midst the ice and snow doth stand,
Steadfastly its lot enduring,
Though ’tis hard to understand.
Yet its wine throughout the winter
Warmth and sweetness ever bears
Unto those in coldness shiv’ring,
Pressed with sorrow, pain, and cares.
Yet without, alone, the grape vine
Midst the ice and snow doth stand,
Steadfastly its lot enduring,
Though ’tis hard to understand.
Warmth and sweetness ever bears
Unto those in coldness shiv’ring,
Pressed with sorrow, pain, and cares.
Yet without, alone, the grape vine
Midst the ice and snow doth stand,
Steadfastly its lot enduring,
Though ’tis hard to understand.
12
Winter o’er, the vine prepareth
Fruit again itself to bear;
Budding forth and growing branches,
Beauteous green again to wear;
Never murmuring or complaining
For the winter’s sore abuse,
Or for all its loss desiring
Its fresh off’ring to reduce.
Fruit again itself to bear;
Budding forth and growing branches,
Beauteous green again to wear;
Never murmuring or complaining
For the winter’s sore abuse,
Or for all its loss desiring
Its fresh off’ring to reduce.
Winter o’er, the vine prepareth
Fruit again itself to bear;
Budding forth and growing branches,
Beauteous green again to wear;
Never murmuring or complaining
For the winter’s sore abuse,
Or for all its loss desiring
Its fresh off’ring to reduce.
Fruit again itself to bear;
Budding forth and growing branches,
Beauteous green again to wear;
Never murmuring or complaining
For the winter’s sore abuse,
Or for all its loss desiring
Its fresh off’ring to reduce.
13
Breathing air, untainted, heavenly,
As it lifts its arms on high,
Earth’s impure, defiled affections
Ne’er the vine may occupy.
Facing sacrifice, yet smiling,
And while love doth prune once more,
Strokes it bears as if it never
Suffered loss and pain before.
As it lifts its arms on high,
Earth’s impure, defiled affections
Ne’er the vine may occupy.
Facing sacrifice, yet smiling,
And while love doth prune once more,
Strokes it bears as if it never
Suffered loss and pain before.
Breathing air, untainted, heavenly,
As it lifts its arms on high,
Earth’s impure, defiled affections
Ne’er the vine may occupy.
Facing sacrifice, yet smiling,
And while love doth prune once more,
Strokes it bears as if it never
Suffered loss and pain before.
As it lifts its arms on high,
Earth’s impure, defiled affections
Ne’er the vine may occupy.
Facing sacrifice, yet smiling,
And while love doth prune once more,
Strokes it bears as if it never
Suffered loss and pain before.
14
From the branches of the grape vine
Sap and blood and wine doth flow.
Does the vine, for all it suffered,
Lost, and yielded, poorer grow?
Drunkards of the earth and wanderers,
From it drink and merry make.
From their pleasure and enjoyment
Do they richer thereby wake?
Sap and blood and wine doth flow.
Does the vine, for all it suffered,
Lost, and yielded, poorer grow?
Drunkards of the earth and wanderers,
From it drink and merry make.
From their pleasure and enjoyment
Do they richer thereby wake?
From the branches of the grape vine
Sap and blood and wine doth flow.
Does the vine, for all it suffered,
Lost, and yielded, poorer grow?
Drunkards of the earth and wanderers,
From it drink and merry make.
From their pleasure and enjoyment
Do they richer thereby wake?
Sap and blood and wine doth flow.
Does the vine, for all it suffered,
Lost, and yielded, poorer grow?
Drunkards of the earth and wanderers,
From it drink and merry make.
From their pleasure and enjoyment
Do they richer thereby wake?
15
Not by gain our life is measured,
But by what we’ve lost ’tis scored;
’Tis not how much wine is drunken,
But how much has been outpoured.
For the strength of love e’er standeth
In the sacrifice we bear;
He who has the greatest suff’ring
Ever has the most to share.
But by what we’ve lost ’tis scored;
’Tis not how much wine is drunken,
But how much has been outpoured.
For the strength of love e’er standeth
In the sacrifice we bear;
He who has the greatest suff’ring
Ever has the most to share.
Not by gain our life is measured,
But by what we’ve lost ’tis scored;
’Tis not how much wine is drunken,
But how much has been outpoured.
For the strength of love e’er standeth
In the sacrifice we bear;
He who has the greatest suff’ring
Ever has the most to share.
But by what we’ve lost ’tis scored;
’Tis not how much wine is drunken,
But how much has been outpoured.
For the strength of love e’er standeth
In the sacrifice we bear;
He who has the greatest suff’ring
Ever has the most to share.
16
He who treats himself severely
Is the best for God to gain;
He who hurts himself most dearly
Most can comfort those in pain.
He who suffering never beareth
Is but empty “sounding brass”;
He who self-life never spareth
Has the joys which all surpass.
Is the best for God to gain;
He who hurts himself most dearly
Most can comfort those in pain.
He who suffering never beareth
Is but empty “sounding brass”;
He who self-life never spareth
Has the joys which all surpass.
He who treats himself severely
Is the best for God to gain;
He who hurts himself most dearly
Most can comfort those in pain.
He who suffering never beareth
Is but empty “sounding brass”;
He who self-life never spareth
Has the joys which all surpass.
Is the best for God to gain;
He who hurts himself most dearly
Most can comfort those in pain.
He who suffering never beareth
Is but empty “sounding brass”;
He who self-life never spareth
Has the joys which all surpass.
Delete Comment
Are you sure you want to delete this comment?
Storrs, Connecticut, United States
This hymn can be considered the representative hymn of Watchman Nee’s life. The life of the vine. Today it is the life of Watchman Nee in a song. Where did this song come from?
In 1951 there was a a revival sweeping across China in the Lord’s Recovery. Nee went through six long years of winter meaning six long years when he was stopped from carrying out his ministry. He could not minister. Bro. Nee started to minister in the early 1920s, the beginning of the Lord’s Recovery. Then he was arrested and sentenced 30 years later in 1952, and spent the rest of his life for the next 20 years all the way to 1972, in labor camp-prisons. The time of his public ministry was 30 years or less and of those three short decades, he was stopped multiple times, in some cases put aside, in others, excommunicated. The last instance was during World War II from 1942 to 1948. How old was he at that time? He was just in his 40’s but he had reached the height, the maturity of his ministry. He had been given such a commission of the age, not able to speak… talk about suffering!
Nee said:
“I’d like to introduce a hymn that we have recently worked on; hymn 635. It describes the life of a vine as a depiction of the life of Christ, and of the believers in John 15. Really the ultimate vine tree or grapevine is Christ. It was first given in the form of a sermon back in the 19C, in Italy, by a certain Italian-priest who worked in a hospital. This song is not only a depiction of Christ, but also of His believers. ”(Many of the Lord‘s believers did not follow the Lord in this life. And there are some who did, and in this case, it’s Watchman Nee. ) It originated from Hugo Basey, this is the name of the Italian priest born in the beginning of the 19C. He gave a sermon to patients in the hospital during some kind of war at that time in Europe. It was just one sermon and that sermon was put into verse using John 15 as a backdrop to speak about the life of a vine. The vine tree grows out of dry ground. Every tree has 3 to 5 trunks. When it grows to be a foot or so, it is tied to poles. Any additional branches are pruned away. The life of a vine is one of suffering: Tied, put into hard soil, pruned until it’s bared, under the beating of the hot sun. The grapevine needs heat to grow; intense sunshine. As soon as its flowers blossom, they wither away quickly because the vine tree does not exist to give forth beauty. They wither away to give way to juicy grapes. As soon as the fruit ripen, they are plucked from the tree and thrown onto threshing-floors and there they crush them, step on them, trample them, press them until the juice comes out and that juice would become wine for man’s enjoyment.
In the winter, after all of this, the gardener proceeds to do another round of cutting and pruning. All the branches that have grown fruit and leaves are left to a bare trunk. Another round after one year, and another round.
Watchman Nee:
“I first heard this from a sermon in 1923. (That’s the time when he began to pursue the Lord and serve Him. ) Later I received a copy of the prose that was based upon that sermon by an Italian-Christian priest. It was written by an English poet named Harriett Eleanor Hamilton King whose work is ranked among the best of English prose. Today we have translated her prose into Chinese and edited it into a hymn. ” That sermon was turned into prose by King and then Bro. Nee translated it into Chinese in hymn-form. This happened in China. Nee treasured this hymn as a youth, even before he had gone through so many sufferings in his life, in the ensuing years. It was in these years after his ministry resumed, he often asked the saints to sing it in Chinese— Bro. Nee’s own translation. Today we have 2 volumes of Watchman Nee’s Resumption Ministry. This hymn may be found in there somewhere. During those years, he sang that hymn and he had the saints sing that hymn. Witness Lee received a lot of help from this hymn and realized the hymn was about Watchman Nee’s life; A life of suffering.
Fellowship of MC to sisters TX
Paraphrased by AL
New York City, New York, United States
“His desire after so many years of suffering was to express his spiritual sentiment through the singing of that prose. ”
Lagos, Lagos State, Nigeria
It's interesting
Louisiana, United States
In praying & reading this hymn this morning I was seeing that this hymn is all about the life Jesus lived. I also realized it is the believer’s life too. I never wanted to get too much into this hymn for years now. I don’t like suffering. But after years of the Christian life having suffered some & suffered loss I am now enjoying the experience of this song. I appreciate much more now those brothers & sisters who have suffered so much loss and now pour out wine from their experience of Christ in those times of suffering. Their wine cheers God & man. Praise the Lord. We love Him.
St. Petersburg, Russia
"Not by gain our life is measured,
But by what we’ve lost ‘tis scored;
’Tis not how much wine is drunken,
But how much has been outpoured."
(When we care about our own house instead of caring for God's house, He comes and breathes on our house, but even that is His mercy and special grace to us. We then appreciate these lines in a particular way.)
Auburn, California, United States
Reflecting on a walk through a vineyard last week, I wholeheartedly agree with the comments written above.
it is Our Dear Beloved's LOVE for us that we experience the depths of His caring pruning & delight in being His & His alone. An audience of one.
Sydney, NSW, Australia
This hymn is the deepest exposition of what it means to abide in the Vine, the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not merely concerned with suffering in itself, but rather in abiding in Him, we are conformed to His death in every way (Phil. 3:10). We cannot interpret this hymn individualistically, but rather most personally in our participation in and incorporation with Christ in all His experiences, particularly in this context as His one Body. Every verse describes both the crucified life, the resurrected life and the ascended life in and of Christ, whom we can participate in according to His Spirit. Our contemplation must extend first with the lack of luxuriant beauty of the Vine, a beauty that is common to the wild flowers of the field, significant of the fallen natural life versus the lowly appearance of the Lord Jesus in His earthly ministry, His mind whom we must now have in humbling ourselves(Phil. 2). To be dealt with even in that little outward majesty the Lord had, in that under the Father's sovereignty, He suffered persecution, defamation, slanders and despisings from His opposers; the apostles were the same, who were regarded as "deceivers" by those who opposed the gospel, but "true" to those who received their ministry. In such a context, even unto death the Lord in His resurrection bore fruit in His believers; we also must bear fruit. Yet fallen man still despises our ascended Lord, and the remainder of this hymn describes the continuing suffering of His members on earth, who like their Lord on earth, are continuously maligned and persecuted by the world-system, and yet they still bear fruit and convey the wine of the enjoyment of Christ as the Spirit to others. The crucial call of this hymn at the end, is that not only must we enjoy Christ, but passing through suffering in the Spirit, we are able to minister the same Spirit to others and live such a life that would draw others to be similar to us as ministers of the crucified Christ, even as these ministers patterned themselves after the Lord according to the transforming Spirit.