- Then led they Jesus from Caiaphas unto the hall of judgment: and it was early; and they themselves went not into the judgment hall, lest they should be defiled; but that they might eat the passover.
Beneath the moon’s pale watchful eye,
In Gethsemane’s hush, where shadows lie,
Cypress and palm, we stood in grief,
Our leaves whispered solace, a silent relief.
Sweat like blood from His brow did weep,
Upon our roots, His sorrows seep.
Nature’s tears, the dew did fall,
As we cradled our Creator, through it all.
Each drop a prayer, each breeze a sigh,
We bore witness as He prepared to die.
In the quiet of our branches, angels tread,
Around Him, our boughs bowed low, in dread.
Our hearts are wood, yet still we felt
The divine agony, the pious welt.
For none but us, the trees could see
The burden of the One, the Holy, the Free.
Song 🎵🎶