He was laid in a wooden manger.
Played with shavings from the plane;
Knew the smell of cedar – sawn,
Could distinguish the oaken grain.
He preached from a wooden sailboat.
Called down Zacchaeus from a tree;
He cursed the fruitless old olive,
And, it dried up thoroughly.
He carried a wooden cross.
Than another shouldered the frame.
And since that infamous, ancient day,
Wood, crosses, haven’t been the same. –eab, 10/82
Written while I pastored Christ Church – Bible Methodist, Friendsville, TN
Separate-Holy 