1 O beautiful tree! thy leaves are green,
Thy branches are tall and fair,
But in thine arms no fruit is seen—
No luscious figs are there.
I’ve watched thy growth with a tender care,
I have loved thee, beautiful one!
And year by year thou hast grown so fair,
I’ve sought the fruit that thine arms should bear,
But thou hast borne me none.
2 Thy beauty pleases the loving eye,
I joy in thy grateful shade;
I hear thee praised by the passerby,
In the garden my Lord has made.
But, oh! my Master has looked on thee,
He has sought thy fruit in vain;
He has said, “Cut down that barren tree,
Uncumbered the gen’rous soil shall be,
I will not seek again!”
3 I’ve prayed at His feet for another year,
That still I might work with thee,
If haply thy branches rich figs might bear,
And thou be a fruitful tree.
And one more year my Lord will spare;
And labors and tears I give.
O beautiful tree! my life is a prayer,
That thou in the harvest ripe fruit may’st bear,
That my Lord may bid thee live!
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