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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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