FROM THE HEART OF A TREE

I’m a tree, all covered with bark,

But inside of me, there is a heart——

A heart that’s strong and big and good,

Yet when all is said, it’s a heart of wood.

A wooden heart that cannot feel,

Either Grief to hurt, or Joy to heal;

That knows no sorrow and no pain,

Yet with no happiness or love to gain.

The heart in me is as hard as stone,

No affection or sympathy has it known;

No friendship shared, no tenderness felt,

No companionship has it ever met.

So when ache and grief comes to your heart,

And makes it hurt and feel so dark.

Just don^'t begin to envy me,

Or wish that you in my place could be.

There's no love in this heart of mine,

No happiness or joy so fine.

To feel no grief is to feel no good——

If it can’t hurt, it’s a heart of wood.

The heart that's tender and bleeds at times

Is the heart that loves and is alive:

If it can be touched like it should be,

Be happy it's not the heart of a tree.

--Emerson Blythe

"Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted..."

--Eph. 4:32

 

 

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