Isaiah’s Vine


Unless the Lord prunes this vine
The branches will be fruitless
Unless the Lord fells this tree
The stump will soon be lifeless

I have grown a wild vine,
with wild grapes and leaves
While underneath grows thorns and briars
And all around is hostile

The Lord has come, the Great Vinedresser
With axes, winnows and fire
And has set his work upon this bush
To cast its growth asunder

The branches trimmed, the stump then felled
The fire raging brighter
What is this work you’ve set about
And purged my vine to ashes?

“This work I set about on you
Though painful it may be
Was to put to death the wild things
That grew all over you

“Unless I pruned and burned away
The warped and knotty shoots,
Then I would soon return to you
And uproot you from the ground

“But I have not made an end to you
For within you still remains
A holy seed, a living branch
That will one day sprout to life

“Though burned and razed of all before
And purged down to the ground
Take heart my vine for there is still
Life left in this stump.”

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