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1. See, in the vineyard of the Lord,
A barren fig-tree stands;
No fruit it yields, no blossom bears,
Though planted by his hands.
2. From year to year the tree he views,
And still no fruit is found;
Then "cut it down," the Lord commands,
"Why cumbers it the ground?"
3. But lo ! the gracious Saviour pleads —
"The barren fig-tree spare,
Another year in mercy wait,
It yet may bloom and bear: "
4. "But if my culture prove in vain,
And still no fruit be found,
I plead no more; destroy the tree,
And root it from thy ground."