I am the vine, the living vine,
Ye are the branches true;
My father is the Husbandman,
Who'll purge and quicken you
To works of love, that more and more
Your labors may be blest;
And not as worthless branches, cast
Away from all the rest. Now are you clean, if in your heart
My words and spirit flow.
Abide in love; abide in me
As close as branches grow
Into the vine, then you much fruit
Shall bear; your joy shall be
The loved ones saved. As stars they'll shine
Through all eternity. Lord, how shall we abide in thee?
How keep we in thy love?
Do my commandments, is replied
In accents from above.
Your brethren love as I've loved you,
Your enemies forgive,
Labor for all, yourself deny,
Abide in me and live. JANE B. IRISH.