A Tree Grows And Poetry

my poetry



Jesus arrived in a smelly old stable

With animals sleeping all round

The manger was dirty the birds had been nesting

Goat and donkey asleep on the ground

He was born in place noble men never ventured

Even servants their distance would keep

Jesus the baby arrived without fanfare

Except to the shepherds and sheep


Jesus He died in a smelly old quarry,

With the blood of the dead on the rocks

His cross had been used by a previous felon

The soldiers stood round him and mocked

He died in a place noblemen never ventured

Even servants their distance would keep

Jesus our Saviour he died without fanfare

Except for the angels that weep.


Jesus I live in the light of your glory

The promise You gave makes me clean

You arrrived in a stable and gave on the cross

For You came, just to save me from sin.

You live in my heart, your glory abundant

My whole life to you now I give

Jesus my Saviour lives with me without fanfare

With the Joy of the Lord I will live.

Heather Denholm
Written during worship Sunday Dec 11th 2005 finished 12 july 09  this was written to be sung but so far there is no tune to it.




Today I had a visitor he was sent to me in love ,

The moment that I saw him I knew he was God above !

So I asked Him not to leave me, He agreed that He would stay,

But He would send his spirit on to talk with you today.

So while we sat and chatted about what I could do for him!

He showed me his hands and feet and said could you do this for them?

As He showed to me, the worlds people, He was yet to see,

I doubted I had the strength to die for Him, just like He died for me.

So when he arrives at your place invite Him in to stay,

Your heart He wants to live in, to bless you every day.

For you will find He'll stay with you if you invite Him in,

But send Him on as well, to bless your friends, and kin.

Although he stayed with me all day I know he called on you,

For I saw his foot prints where I walk, he stopped at your place too.

But what amazed me was his hands, strong, gentle, firm, and yet!

His wounded hands reach out to you too! but we may have never met.!

Heather Denholm

March 2010


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