There is a holy tree,
Whose roots go upwards,
Devoted to its Master's words,
Yet it lives in gay merry.
Its branches herald peace,
To the sinners here,
A green abode dear,
Consoles its fanning breeze.
It bears sweet fruits,
Those who consume shine,
With radiance of planets nine,
And it bears without roots.
Its innumerable leaves,
Remind tragic notes of a sage,
Who, born to die for all age,
For Him who really grieves?
A wondrous tree,
Ever thought provoking,
Represent our holy king,
Yet it stands in human glee.
Its heavenly shade,
A paradise on earth,
And a symbol of birth,
In heaven Jesus made.
A tree of superior race,
It descends from God above,
Which Christians fondly love,
It's Christmas tree of grace.
Yesupatham Savarimuthu.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment