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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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