God comes for fruit. What have I here? saith God. What a fig-tree is
this, that hath stood this year in my vineyard, and brought me forth
no fruit! I will cry unto him, Professor, barren fig-tree, be
fruitful; I look for fruit, I expect fruit, I must have fruit;
therefore bethink thyself. At these the professor pauses; but these
are words, not blows; therefore off goes this consideration from the
heart.
When God comes the next year, he finds him still as he was, a
barren, fruitless cumber-ground. And now again he complains, Here
are two years gone, and no fruit appears; well, I will defer mine
anger for my name's sake. I will yet wait to be gracious. But this
helps not, this hath not the least influence upon the barren
fig-tree: Tush, saith he, here is no threatening; God is merciful,
he will defer his anger, he waits to be gracious; I am not yet
afraid. O, how ungodly men, that are unawares crept into the
vineyard, how do they turn the grace of our God into lasciviousness!
Well, he comes the third year for fruit, as he did before, but still
he finds but a barren fig-tree; no fruit. Now he cries out again, O
thou dresser of my vineyard, come hither: here is a fig-tree hath
stood these three years in my vineyard, and hath at every season
disappointed my expectation; for I have looked for fruit in vain.
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