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The Poem.
IF after pains and patience, you can see
No hopes of fruit1 1.1 down goes the barren tree:
You will not suffer trees that are unsound,
And barren too, to cumber useful ground.
The fatal ax is2 1.2 laid unto the root
It's fit for fire, when unfit for fruit.
But though this be a dead, and barren tree;
Reader, I would not have it so to thee.
May it to thee this serious thought suggest,
In all the Orchard this dead tree's the best.
Think on it sadly, lay it close to heart;
This is the case in which thou wast, or art.
If so thou wast, but3 1.3 now dost live and grow,
And bring forth fruit, what praise, and thanks dost ow
To that wise Husbandman that made thee so!
O think when justice listed up its hand,* 1.4
How4 1.5 mercy did then interceding stand!
How pity did on thy behalf appear,
To beg reprieval for another year.
Stop Lord, forbear him; all hope is not past,
He can but be for fire at the last.
Though many Sermons, many a gracious call
He hath resisted like a brazen wall.
The next5 1.6 may win him, then thy grace shall raise
Unto it self a6 1.7 monument of praise.
How should this meditation thaw and melt
The heart of him that hath such mercy felt.
But if thou still remain a barren tree,
Then here as in a mirrour; thou may'st see
Thy wretched state, when justice at a blow,
Requites Gods patience in thine overthrow.
And canst thou7 1.8 bear it? can thy heart endure.
To think of everlasting burnings? sure
This must thy lot, thy fearful portion be;
If thou continue still a barren tree.