A fig tree with no figs on it. I stand by the spring of life and water flows beneath my roots. I stand given everything and producing nothing but a little shade. When my master comes by me, he looks for figs but does not curse me upon not finding them. He sits in my shade and rests his back upon my trunk. I enjoy his presence so much and I wish he never leaves. You are welcome here my sweet Jesus. The figs will come when your father wills it. In the mean time rest upon me so that I will not be cut down. No figs on my branches but Jesus I trust in you.
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