• What can man profit from a fruitless tree?
    Better to be thrown to the depths of the earth

    But when all is gone a saving voice is heard
    On a dead branch his body is pierced

    His twigs may curl thorns defiled while weeds choke
    I am found wanting in my infirmity

    I thirst as the sun dries my lot
    Three years of earnest planting

    Three years and I’m still searching
    Fruitless heart unfit for His Majesty

    Listless, I shun your glory, leaves
    Plucked like thistles from lord’s arms – I

    Cut the years of barren prayers
    In my lords wrath I plea

    Strike not but in you mercy
    You whose wages are free

    You whose blood saved me
    Tomorrow the world may cease

    But my soul will rest in thee