Your
lights that sparkle in the night,
Like tiny flames that pierce the dark--
Are they reflections from the Light
That spoke a world with one small spark?
Are
piercing needles, evergreen,
Mere replicas of angry thorns?
Do they rehearse a sordid scene,
Where Love was mocked and flesh was torn?
Your
glistening balls of crimson red,
That softly fall from weeping boughs--
Are they reminders that He bled,
Denying self in garden vows?
If
you, oh tree, tell not of Christ,
You only tell of man's desire.
You represent a hollow tryst
If you no praise for Him inspire.
Bring
back the glory of the trees
So shamed by that cruel hammer's ring.
Renew our hope for man's disease;
Remind us of our coming King.
For
only then, dear Christmas Tree,
Are you adorned for Him to see.
*****