What though no flow’rs the fig-tree clothe,
though vines their fruit deny,
The labour of the olive fail,
and fields no meat supply?
Though from the fold, with sad surprise,
my flock cut off I see;
Though famine pine in empty stalls,
where herds were wont to be?
Yet in the Lord will I be glad,
and glory in his love;
In him I’ll joy, who will the God
of my salvation prove.
He to my tardy feet shall lend
the swiftness of the roe;
Till, raised on high, I safely dwell
beyond the reach of woe.
God is the treasure of my soul,
the source of lasting joy;
A joy which want shall not impair,
nor death itself destroy.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | What though no flow'rs the fig-tree clothe |
Title: | Habak. 3:17,18: What though no flow'rs the fig-tree clothe |
Meter: | 8,6,8,6 |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1800 |
Scripture: | |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. |