L (11-03-1977 / )

Olive Branches

O ye noble Israel,
The precious fruit
Of Mine olive tree.

It grieves me such,
That I might lose thee,
For thy branches witherest away.

Though your root is strong,
Your leaves but fall
And littereth My vineyard floor.

So I shall prune unto Me
Ten wholesome branches
And scatter them about My vineyard

To grow unto themselves, righteous generations
Who shall bring forth sweet fruit
To My discerning pallet.

Such it shall be also,
That unto those two branches
That remaineth with the root

That I shall splice unto them,
The branches
Of a wild olive tree

Thus to preserve the root and trunk,
And, chance also
That those gentile generations,

May bring forth
Unto Me,
A tame sweet yield.


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