On a barren hill some Romans planted a barren tree. Rugged and stripped of it's dignity, the tree bore fruit you see. The seed was with in it, though it had no branches or boughs. The blossoming of eternal life is what grew. Between two other trees precious blood was spilled, oh what a harvest it did yield. When they cut it down, it began to spread, the roots of the tree went beyond the barren hill into eternity. It brought forth salvation you see and produced the Rose of Sharon that bled for you and me.