Reflection: ‘Sacred trees — where God meets man’

While there’s nothing more sacred about a tree than anything else God’s created — there’s a burning bush, a tree that turns bitter water to sweet, a stick that does miracles — Moses would have clearly recognised a sacred aspect to wood in the hands of the Almighty.

And so do we, when we’re taken to a wood, where prayer’s sweat is like drops of blood;

Where a tangled crown of thorny wood draws blood;

Where the burden of two wooden beams, too humanly-impossible to bear, is smudged with blood;

And where our Saviour is hung to stain those beams with his pristine blood for my sin-sopped body.

 Prayer:

Linger in this Latin hymn, a long and ancient expression of gratitude, because God did/does/and will mercifully engage with his beloved world.

Crux Fidelis:

Faithful Cross the Saints rely on,

Noble tree beyond compare!

Never was there such a scion, [shoot/twig]

Never leaf or flower so rare.

Sweet the timber, sweet the iron,

Sweet the burden that they bear!

Sing, my tongue, in exultation

Of our banner and device!

Make a solemn proclamation

Of a triumph and its price:

How the Saviour of creation

Conquered by his sacrifice!

 For, when Adam first offended,

Eating that forbidden fruit,

Not all hopes of glory ended

With the serpent at the root:

Broken nature would be mended

By a second tree and shoot.

Thus the tempter was outwitted

By a wisdom deeper still:

Remedy and ailment fitted,

Means to cure and means to kill;

That the world might be acquitted,

Christ would do his Father’s will.

…So he came, the long-expected,

Not in glory, not to reign;

Only born to be rejected,

Choosing hunger, toil and pain,

Till the scaffold was erected

And the Paschal Lamb was slain.

No disgrace was too abhorrent:

Nailed and mocked and parched he died;

Blood and water, double warrant,

Issue from his wounded side,

Washing in a mighty torrent

Earth and stars and ocean-tide.

Lofty timber, smooth your roughness,

Flex your boughs for blossoming;

Let your fibres lose their toughness,

Gently let your tendrils cling;

Lay aside your native gruffness,

Clasp the body of your King!

Noblest tree of all created,

Richly jewelled and embossed:

Post by Lamb’s blood consecrated;

Spar that saves the tempest-tossed;

Scaffold-beam which, elevated,

Carries what the world has cost!

https://www.godsongs.net/2014/03/faithful-cross-the-saints-rely-on–english-crux-fidelis.html