The Tree Of Life
From smallest marvel of the Triune God,
From tiny seed lost in earth's fragrant sod.
Decaying, dying, that from thence must rise
A mighty tree uplifted to the skies.
Deep rooted in a vast humility,
Yet trembling with each breeze in ecstasy,
Thine very fiber reaching to the sun
In strife and yearning till the goal be won.
Lashed by the storm in direst pain
Or softly kissed by gently falling rain
The Master's pruning knife must chasten thee
Make strong they limbs, till thou all perfect be
For thou, O tree must live for aye
In the vast regions of an endless day.