What Though No Flowers the Fig Tree Clothe?

What though no flow­ers the fig tree clothe

Though vines their fruit de­ny

The la­bor of the ol­ive fail

And fields no meat sup­ply?

Though from the fold

with sad sur­prise

My flock cut off I see;

Though fa­mine pine in emp­ty stalls

Where herds were wont to be?

Yet in the Lord will I be glad

And glo­ry in His love;

In Him I’ll joy

who will the God

Of my sal­va­tion prove.

He to my tar­dy feet shall lend

The swift­ness of the roe;

Till

raised on high

I safe­ly dwell

Beyond the reach of woe.

God is the trea­sure of my soul

The source of last­ing joy;

A joy which want shall not im­pair

Nor death it­self de­stroy.