Holly bush along the way,
Is it true the tales they say?
Were your berries once bright white?
Were your branches woven tight?
You were such a scraggly thing,
When the soldiers sought our King.
Is it true that Mary prayed?
As beneath your bough she laid.
Her Babe within your holly bed,
Entrusting Him to you it’s said,
That you tried with all your might,
And you hid Him from their sight.
Did your leaves enfold Him so?
Since He had no place to go?
When Mary placed Him ‘neath your bough,
You sheltered Him you'd not allow,
Harm to come to Him that day,
Least that's what the stories say,
Is it true a roof you grew,
Over Him till they passed through?
In your heart you kept Him there,
Till all was safe no need to care.
Is that why He blessed you so?
Now your bush will always grow.
Blood red berries instead of white,
To symbolize that precious night.
For one brief moment passed in time,
You held Him in your heart entwined,
Deep within your holly bed,
Till all was safe, He laid His head.
A sign of immortality,
Hope to all you'll ever be.
A natural symbol of rebirth,
Joy and peace through out the earth. |
