A Palm Sunday

The Weeping Tree

Upon the wind there comes a call,
a whisper soft and low,
a lonseome cry that fills the night
and echoes through the soul.
It stirs the seekers tender heart.
It bids them come and see,
to kneel in shadows cast by grace,
to touch the weeping tree.
Against the sky the timbers rise,
a silhouette of grace,
a rugged throne for heaven’s own,
the sinner’s hiding place.
Its burdened arms reach out to all;
they draw the world to see
the price of love is paid in blood
upon the weeping tree.
O come to the place where promise lives
and rest where hope begins,
where crimson leaves adorn the ground;
a gift from graceful winds.
O come and walk the winding path
that leads to Calvary.
Come lay your burdens down
and rest before the weeping tree.

~ Joseph M. Martin