[Instead of my usual meditation, a hymn I composed based on Hab. 3:17-19. It may be sung to the tune of St. Flavian (Day's Psalter, 1562)]
Ev’n though the fig tree does not bloom,
And vines no fruit have borne;
Though produce of the olive fails
And fields bring forth no corn;
And though the flock can’t reach the fold,
No herd is in the stalls,
Yet I will in the Lord rejoice;
Who saves, whate’er befalls.
In God, the Lord, is all my strength;
In him my soul delights;
He makes my feet like feet of deer
To tread upon the heights.
O God, whose love is steadfast though
Our way be dark and hard,
Still grant us grace to sing your praise;
O, ever-gracious Lord.
And vines no fruit have borne;
Though produce of the olive fails
And fields bring forth no corn;
And though the flock can’t reach the fold,
No herd is in the stalls,
Yet I will in the Lord rejoice;
Who saves, whate’er befalls.
In God, the Lord, is all my strength;
In him my soul delights;
He makes my feet like feet of deer
To tread upon the heights.
O God, whose love is steadfast though
Our way be dark and hard,
Still grant us grace to sing your praise;
O, ever-gracious Lord.
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