Poetic Sermons

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Old Dead Tree
Sun dried and withered, frost bitten and beaten
No leaves to be seen, no fruit to be eaten
The Father said cut it down, the Son said wait
There is hope for this one, it’s not too late
Give it one more year let’s see what it will do
The rotting surface hasn’t spread all the way through
Maybe there doesn’t appear to be any hope left
If at all possible it should escape the grip of death
Remember the thief approaching hell from the cross
At first appearance his hopes were surely lost
What about the lame man who hung around that old well
By all considerations he was heading for hell
And that certain harlot who was caught in the act
Down a road of destruction never to make it back
There are trees everywhere that at first glance
From an outward appearance certainly have no chance
But with a little love, a little time, a little mercy and grace
Life and leaves and sweet fruit could soon take place
We judge too quickly the outward view
Without considering all the pruning we ourselves went through
Had it not been for a loving Son and a merciful Father
We know the average farmer would not have bothered
On a dry dead bush one yellow flower did grow
Can it survive? We may never know
But thank the Father for the Son who spoke up for me
Because I was once the old dead tree
J. Moore

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Old Dead Tree