Let me sing for his beloved
A vineyard on his hill
He dug and then He planted
He built and then He watched
The men in Judah judge him
For all of His sweet care
He finally saw His fruit bear

He is the vine
The great vine of His vineyard
The fruit of that hill
He is the vine
Already we are clean
With the words that He left us
Trust in him and we will drink of it
Partaking in the blood of Jesus Christ

Here's the end to His vineyard
Its hedge He has removed
Destroyed all of it shall be,
Its walls will be trampled
Then He will make it waste
All these thorns will grow up
And then the rains will not come

This vineyard that I sing of
Are His chosen people
And all this pleasant planting
No fruit has it beared
But my Jesus he is coming
To rule over the lands