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And it shall come to pass," sayeth the Lord, "that every man in Israel shall sit under his own Fig Tree and there he shall remember the goodness of the Lord"
I HAVE NO FIG TREE E. Foster Hall (1910-1992)
I have no fig tree under which to sit, And share my memories with a passing friend. They do not grace this Northern land, nor fit Among the spruce trees by the river's bend. But by this river, centuries old, which moves In endless patience haste from sea to sea, I have a place to stand and sense a part, Of the continual life it shares with me.
And here the memories burst upon my mind, Which through the years have in the silence lain. Of distant days, and those whose lives, entwined With mine. Yet parted, separate to remain. Not all recalled is joyful, nor expected so. Sadness with comfort dwells, courage with fears. Yet in the balance there is much to show, A lasting profit in the passing years.
So it was written in those distant years, Each man beside his own Fig Tree will sit And there remember what their hearts well know, And all the ways of Providence admit.
Sit then, Good Friends, with us.
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