The Famous Seed
The Famous Seed
It would be this seed that fell,
To root in fertile ground,
Then slowly through progressive days,
Would come to be profound.
It grew enormous in its height,
Providing shady rest,
The birds would come in early spring,
And build for young a nest.
In silence without voice to speak,
Ore lonely hills it swayed,
Then the axe put to the trunk,
Was fell one autumn day.
Its timbers in a mill was hued,
Bought by the Roman guard,
Near the cells of prisoners held,
Was stacked within the yard.
A hundred years before the day,
That shouted crucify,
A seed pointed to a time,
When the son of God would die.
As each nail pierced into Godís heart,
And blood dripped on to clay,
The tree that stood a hundred years,
Rose one more time that day.
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