Three little trees within a forest
Talked as up they grew,
And, thinking of their lives ahead,
Dreamed, as we humans do.
The first tree thought: “I’ll be a box
And hold some treasures rare.
A girl will love and cherish me.
I’ll be in such good care.”
The second tree, a tiny oak,
Thought of its years ahead:
“I’ll not be some girl’s treasure box
But a mighty ship instead.”
The last tree said: “I’ll not be cut.
I’ll grow up straight and tall.
And my majestic height will be
Admired by one and all.”
The years went by and soon arrived
Some men who cut them down,
And they were carried far away
To some quite distant town.
The first of these three friends became
A trough that held some grain -
And there, inside a cattle shed,
Its dreams seemed quite in vain.
The oak tree never was a ship
But, instead, a fishing boat.
And its dreams, too, were cut in size:
It also could not gloat.
The third tree too was cut right down
And stored out in a yard.
Its dreams were dashed along with theirs -
And all felt life was hard.
One night two travellers arrived
And in a barn they stayed.
A baby boy was born that night,
And in a manger laid.
This was a very treasured child -
“The son of God” they said:
The first tree was, to this small child,
A warm and cosy bed.
In later years, the fishing boat,
Took a stranger on the lake:
He slept through an almighty storm
But friends bade him awake.
He told the storm to hold its peace,
And this was quickly done:
This man, with powers to lull a storm,
Was surely God’s own son.
In later years the third long tree
This man did also meet,
But on his back he bore its weight
Along a crowded street.
Upon a hill above the town
They nailed him to its wood
And people crucified a man
Who only brought them good.
The first tree held a treasured child,
The second saw wondrous things
And the third tree sadly saw him die -
Jesus, the King of Kings.
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