Cut It Down

Justice. Cut it down

cut it down

Spare not the fruit­less tree!

It spreads a harm­ful shade around

It spoils what else were use­ful ground.

No fruit for years on it I’ve found;

Cut it down

cut it down.

Mercy. One year more

one year more

Oh

spare the fruit­less tree!

Behold its branch­es broad and green

Its spread­ing leaves have hope­ful been

Some fruit there­on may yet be seen;

One year more

one year more.

Justice. Cut it down

cut it down

And burn the worth­less tree!

For oth­er use the soil pre­pare

Some oth­er tree will flour­ish there

And in my vine­yard much fruit bear

Cut it down

cut it down.

Mercy. One year more

one year more

For mer­cy spare the tree!

Another year of care be­stow

On its fair form some fruit may grow

If not—then lay the cum­b’rer low

One year more

one year more.

Still it stands

still it stands

A fair

but fruit­less tree!

The Mas­ter

seek­ing fruit ther­eon

Has come—but

grieved at find­ing none

Now speaks to Jus­tice—Mer­cy flown—

Cut it down

cut it down.