Birds Stopped Singing

Birds stop singing This summer spring morn The Son of God His head forlorn No need to tremble The gardens scene With men and angels For friends look mean Come they say see The simple man Hands together With touch the plan No need to listen The whispers cry For will not wishes To live To die Yet sparrows simple And lilies tilt Upon a rock The riches built Then look no longer His feet His Side With all or nothing And there abide With near and closer A vision see The man The moment Upon a tree For with His wisdom He bore and kept The few the faithful With crosses yet Dedicated to JP Munhall