48. Grafting Hymn

Root-stock of David, heavenly Vine,
Invigorate this faith of mine;
Keep me in You as twig or leaf,
And help, oh! help my unbelief!

Dig, water, dung, as You see need,
My barren soil. The fallen seed
Raise up, and train the tender shoot;
Yes, prune it, blessing pain with fruit.

Defend me from the beaks of doubt;
The thorns of worry harrow out;
From worldly care's root-sapping blight
Defend me, Lord of life and light!

And lest for naught my wounds have wept,
Help me new branches to accept.
Make us as one, and heal the gap;
Make flow through all Your single sap.

Thus grafted in, the life we share
Shall shine its beauty everywhere
With stronger flesh, resilient blood,
And fruit more plenteous, full, and good.

Remember, Lord, the thorns You wore,
The cup You drank, the guilt You bore:
Then, grafted to Your lively tree,
May I Your fruitful harvest see!