Discovered these 2 poems, and think they’re worth sharing … they may well be based on words from an obscure Book in the Old Testament: The Song of Solomon – a verse of which reads:
“Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.“
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ENJOY
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The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.
His beauty doth all things excel:
By faith I know, but ne’er can tell
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree.
For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all; but now I see
‘Tis found in Christ the apple tree.
I’m weary with my former toil,
Here I will sit and rest awhile:
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.
This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.
ANON
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SOME folk as can afford,
So I’ve heard say,
Set up a sort of cross
Right in the garden way
To mind ‘em of the Lord.
But I, when I do see
This apple tree
An’ stoopin’ limb
All spread wi’ moss,
I think of Him
And how He talks wi’ me.
I think of God
And how He trod
That garden long ago;
He walked, I reckon, to and fro
And then sat down
Upon the groun’
Or some low limb
What suited Him
Such as you see
On many a tree,
And on this very one
Where I at set o’ sun
Do sit and talk wi’ He.
And, mornings too, I rise and come
An’ sit down where the branch be low;
A bird do sing, a bee do hum,
The flowers in the border blow,
And all my heart’s so glad and clear
As pools when mists do disappear:
As pools a-laughing in the light
When mornin’ air is swep’ an’ bright,
As pools what got all Heaven in sight
So’s my heart’s cheer
When He be near.
He never pushed the garden door,
He left no footmark on the floor;
I never heard ‘Un stir nor tread
And yet His Hand do bless my head,
And when ’tis time for work to start
I takes Him with me in my heart.
And when I die, pray God I see
At very last this apple tree
An’ stoopin’ limb,
And think of Him
And all He been to me.
By Anna Bunston (Mrs. De Bary)
READY WRITER 