The Tree

The Roman Centurion gave the command, (As he did to my sister and brother) To cut me down in my prime, So ruthless was he, like no other. Apparently, for a despicable crime A person was to be impaled; I shuddered at realising that Upon me he would be nailed! To be the instrument of torture Sickened me to my core; So, how much more would my Creator Feel intense pain, as never before. Sadly, to Golgotha I was dragged; A heavy stake on Jesus shoulder. Even though the sun was shining, In my life, I never felt more colder. Now at the place for execution The soldiers hammered nails into my Lord; They raised him up like a signal - His suffering could not be ignored. Darkness suddenly fell all around Even though it was midday - A miraculous sign for certain, God's anger it did convey. Mother Mary, stood nearby With anguish written all over her face. She knew, in her heart of hearts Her son's death was no disgrace. Finally, mankind's Saviour Breathed his very last breath; His loyalty to his Heavenly Father Was unbroken up to his death. Then, a Roman soldier Realised he truly was God's Son And I realized too that victory Over death would soon be won. Although I will be destined To be food for the fire I'm comforted knowing that Through this man's keen desire To honour God's holy Name And set all mankind free He also will accomplish The end of the misuse of the tree. All trees, I'm sure will one day Never become another torture stake, But, shall be enjoyed as God intended - Causing delight, and not heartache.