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.
Copyright © Paul Holmes | Year Posted 2023
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