A certain man a fig tree had,

He look'd for fruit thereon,

And year by year he came and sought,

But still it yielded none.

He said unto his servant, "Wait

No longer, cut it down;

I've sought these three years here for fruit,

And finding there is none,

"Why cumbereth it the ground?" "O, no,

Let it alone this year,"

The servant said, "I'll nurse it well,

Perhaps it then will bear.

"But if it will not bear, when I

Have dug and dress'd around,

Why, cut it down, it will not yield,

It cumbereth the ground."

Just so it is with those who hear

The Saviour's welcome voice;

Who still refuse His grace to know,

And make the world their choice.

The Saviour will not always bear

With those who from Him stay;

And those who long His grace despise,

Will grieve His love away.