My Vineyard.
My soul is a vineyard of the Lord.
He chose the site carefully
and dug my hardened soil deep.
He removed all rocks and stones
and built me a wall with them,
a defense so very strong.
He planted the choicest of vines,
in fertile ground He planted them
and watered them deeply.
He cares for the plants very well,
pruning them each season,
strong stock to propagate.
Also a watchtower did He make,
placing guards in it,
a watching eye on things.
A wine press He built as well,
for when my vines yield,
pressing the best of fruit.
The wine of Joy is what I get,
jubilant my maidens dance,
gladness running over.
