Leaves, Only Leaves

1 Leaves, only leaves, was the fig-tree’s crown,
Tho’ it promised ripe fruitage as well;
Leaves, withered leaves, ah! so parched and brown.
A sad story of life they tell.
Useless and wasted its years have all been,
Why should it longer be spared?
Leaves, only leaves, leaves, only leaves,
Jesus has passed, and found leaves, only leaves.

2 Leaves, only leaves, will the Master find
If perchance he may pass me today;
Leaves, only leaves, and no fruit entwined,
Will my Lord be compelled to say.
Hungry and weary he comes to my door,
Will he find fruit, and abide?
Leaves, only leaves, leaves, only leaves,
Gath’ring time’s past, and I’ve leaves, only leaves.

3 Leaves, only leaves, after years of care,
Has God’s goodness been wasted on me;
Leaves only leaves, shall this be my share
From God’s hand thro’ eternity.
Vainly he sendeth me blessings each day,
Vainly he cometh, to find
Leaves, only leaves, leaves, only leaves,
Gath’ring time’s past, and I’ve leaves, only leaves.

4 Sheaves, golden sheaves, by the Spirit’s pow’r,
Will I lay at the Master’s feet;
Sheaves, golden sheaves, in the heav’nly bow’r
Shall be waiting my soul to greet.
Humbly and fervently, Lord, I beseech,
Give me great power to win
Souls, ruined souls, souls, precious souls,
Gath’ring time’s passing, give souls, oh, give souls.

Source: The Finest of the Wheat No. 3 #122

• MIDI file from The Finest of the Wheat No. 3 #122