Reminds me of a 20th Century hymn in the 1978 Lutheran Book of Worship:
Amid the world’s bleak wildderness
A vineyard grows with promise green,
The planting of the Lord himself.
His love selected this terrain
His vine with love he planted here
To bear the choicest fruit for him.
We are his branches, chosen, deaer,
And though we feel the dresser’s knife,
We are the objects of his care.
From him we draw the juice of life,
For him supply his winery
With fruit from which true joys derive.
Vine, keep what I was meant to be:
Your branch, with your rich life in me.
Thanks for that. What a beautiful hymn!