The Gourd

As once for Jonah, so the Lord, To sooth and cheer my mournful hours, Prepared for me a pleasing gourd, Cool was its shade, and sweet its flowers.

To prize this gift was surely right; But through the folly of my heart, It hid the Giver from my sight, And soon my joy was changed to smart.

While I admired its beauteous form, Its pleasant shade and grateful fruit, The Lord, displeased, sent forth a worm, Unseen to prey upon the root.

I trembled when I saw it fade, But guilt restrain’d the murm’ring word; My folly I confess’d, and pray’d— Forgive my sin, and spare my gourd.

His wondrous love can ne’er be told— He heard me and relieved my pain; His word the threat’ning worm control’d, And bid my gourd revive again.

Now, Lord, my gourd is mine no more, ’Tis thine, who only couldst it raise; The idol of my heart before Henceforth shall flourish to thy praise.