Pruning (Poem)

 Pruning

By Henry Beer

When spring has come and snow recedes,
And the chilling March wind blows,
I go to prune the apple trees,
The grape vine, and the rose.

I prune the trees which are too high,
And such that are too low;
And some have barren rampant growth,
On which no fruit will grow.

Some trees have branches all entwined,
And thus no fruit they bear.
I cut, and saw, and prune them out,
That light may enter there.

The grape vine, too, has gone astray
And far their vines have run;
I hesitate to cut them back-
Alas! it must be done.

I prune the branches of the rose,
Which grows entwined and high.
The rose, when pruned by skillful hands,
More flowers will supply.

My friends, take note, I will explain
A truth profound and rare.
The Master's hand must prune our lives
If we good fruit would bear.

How blest the man who will submit;
He ne'er will suffer loss.
God knows just how to prune our lives,
And cut away the dross.

The barren and the harmful growth
The Master will remove.
He will, by purging of each branch,
His loving kindness prove.