Trust

Habakkuk, iii: 17–18.

THOUGH bare of bloom the broad-leafed fig

And vines no luscious clusters show,

And toil that sinewed arms bestow

On olive erst with berries big

Shall fail, and fields shall yield no meat,

Nor herds more in the stables low,

Nor woolly flocks in fold shall bleat,

I yet with joy the Lord shall greet,

With song my Strength and Saviour praise,

Who renders like to hinds my feet

And doth me to high places raise.