Hosea

Remain with me. I do not choose you less
For knowing long your wiles and waywardness.

Be rooted with me, planted side by side,
Though blighted fruit and thorns be multiplied.

Rest with me, while the desert wastes increase,
The garden fails, the vine and fig tree cease:

Do not depart, although shame and distress
Strip from you everything save barrenness:

The bitter water sometime may grow sweet,
And mercy flower round these wounded feet.