A tree will never grow mature
Apart from nourishment of soil,
Its days of bearing fruit are sure
When care is done in patient toil.
As with the soul and seeking heart
Without the bread of the Living Word,
Cannot with power there impart
Life transformation as reward.
Some trees stand here merely being
Lost in the emptiness of God,
Their souls are empty, just existing
Refusing the Love they could have had.
The Gift is here in Jesus Christ,
Each Christmas this truth comes to mind:
God gave His Son to pay our price
That Eternal Life in Him we find.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem