The tree of life is watered with her tears
Who mourns the Word of Truth denied by fools.
She weeps amid the sounds of jests and jeers:
While mockers mock she sheds her sorrow's jewels.
Her jewels return to dust whence all jewels come.
Rivers of flawless tears run rapid, fed
By bottomless wells of grief; the ****** scrum
Disgracefully disports before the dead.
A bleeding heart and broken, her heart's quake
Trembles the earth and splits it; streams of blood
Divine and purest tears into a lake
Puddle and pool with sorrow, dust, and mud.
Within her heart a sea of bitterness swells.
Her grief, the ocean's roar, resounds in shells.

The Most High in Heaven
Seventy times seven
Times has forgiven
This sinner who should 
In twain be riven,
For the LORD is good.

The day is done;
The summer sun
    Has set.
In quiet nests
Soft lovebirds' *******
     Duet.

My fledgling faith
Will soon defy death,
     Ascend,
And fly about
A day without
     An end.

Good morning, God.
The dawning day
Chases night's ghosts
     Away.
The heralds of morn,
The early birds,
Are singing songs
     With words.

Good God, who sees
Each every squirm,
And gives the bird
     The worm,
Give us this day
Our daily bread
(And light and life)
     Instead.

How doth the merry little lamb
     Whose fleece is white as snow,
And who was born a very ram,
     A-frolic to and fro.

He sports and plays, doth safely graze,
     And spots a busy bee;
And then a minute he doth chase
     The bug with mirthful glee.

A minute more, he's crying out,
     And bleating with dismay.
The bee has stung him on the snout
     And marred his splendid day!

Beware, the bee is only friend
     To others of his kind.
The stinger on his latter end
     Was made for lambs to mind.

From the last supper eaten with the twelve,
To His ascension into highest Heaven,
The Son of Man endured, and drank His cup,
Obeyed the higher will of Father God.
And the one man that ever was truly guiltless
Submitted to a trial by the law;
And guilty found, He spilled His spotless blood
For me, for you, for every one of us.
Thanks be to God for His great sacrifice.
Thanks be to God for His longsuffering.
Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
Thanks be to God who gives us victory.
In trying times, may always I remember:
Golgotha proves the road to Paradise.

Yes, life is short.
It's a short cavort.
But when it's done,
You live again
Where time there's none
And never's been.

And when you wish
A pun a star,
The Jesus fish
Were better far,
Since Jesus can,
Lord, save a man.