A Poem

The Chosen Tree

O chosen tree, O precious wood

That bore my Saviour up,

Though He chose long before that time

To drink death's bitter cup.

O heartless bark, how could you know

What those dear drops could mean?

Of blood that flowed so freely

That made this sinner clean.

How could you know such cruelty

That day on Calvary's hill

Would pave the way to glory

For those who seek His will.

It's not your fault, O little tree

This torturous sight took place

For I'm the one who hung Him there

He died to plead my case.

If you had known the magnitude

Of what your life would be

I doubt you would have chosen

To be that special tree.

Oh the boundlessness of God's dear grace

To plant that little seed

That would be marked the "death-tree"

That all mankind would need.

O little tree so long ago

How could you know you'd be

An instument in Holy Hands

To save a worm like me.

Written by me: Inspiration from the One who loved me so