The Tree
By Samuel Crawford
There is a tree that grows all ‘round the globe,
To every corner and high pointed peak,
Down every narrow and winding road,
It grows not by sun, but by those who speak.
I’ve seen it in foreign lands, the beared fruit.
The bright result of many a stretched year,
All for a new place in which to set root.
Because of one man’s redeeming aged tear.
The tree knew Bethlehem
On a man and woman, that e’er-glow night.
Its sprout grew to a man, a sacrifice.
The man died so we wouldn’t pay the price.
Gone are the sins of a sinner like me,
All because of that incredible tree!
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