The Saviour Tree
As I look at the Christmas tree
in the branches what do I see?
Points of light like stars in the night;
baubles and tinsel catching the light.
Focusing closer up there on high
a cherub with wings there I spy
among the needles strangely still.
What if it should fidget until
it fell? Then spreading wings to fly
up and away into the sky.
Looking upwards I see the star
guiding the Magi from afar.
Peering below under the tree,
beneath the branches what do I see?
Fallen needles covering the floor,
adorning the crib and so much more:
Shepherds with Joseph and Mary,
also a lamb, a holly berry
hung on the crib, there's the infant
radiant with promise. A moment
with Mary I ponder, and wonder
at what is to come, under
the orders of Herod the king
sending his men for dire killing.
I looked above from crib to tree
pondering the branches, to see
through the needles a young forest
cut to the ground, slaughtered, laid waste;
all but one that was left to grow,
sheltering creatures in each bough:
insects and birds living free
fed by the lofty Saviour Tree.
That tree holds up all creation,
remnant of a forest nation,
then hewn and cut to make the cross
on which was hung at what a cost
the infant Jesus as Son of Man,
the refugee from Herod's plan.
He the hope of mankind's story
teacher and healer held in glory.
For all to see the Saviour Tree
adorned with love for you and me,
holds aloft upon the cross
Jesus as Christ our gain not loss.
Looking afresh at the Christmas tree
more clearly I see how to believe
through little things revealed to my gaze.
Now I'm alert to offer praise.
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