Though the fig tree does not blossom And no fruit is on the vine I will praise the Lord, my savior God, my strength, is my salvation He will make my feet like the feet of a deer Treading upon the heights Though the olive crop has failed And the fields produce no food I will praise the Lord, my savior God, my strength, is my salvation He will make my feet like the feet of a deer Treading upon the heights Though the flock has all been scattered And no herd is in the stall I will praise the Lord, my savior God, my strength, is my salvation He will make my feet like the feet of a deer Treading upon the heights I will praise the Lord, my savior God, my strength, is my salvation He will make my feet like the feet of a deer Treading upon the heights