Glorious in beauty and form it grew
Rare among the myrtle and wooded array,
Then seized of strength, the sturdy roots gave way,
Binding together a cross, split in two.
Hung upon the glorious wood He knew,
Such a dying blood alone could He pay
A price so great on that glorious day
The King surrendered his life through and through.
Today its veins grow twisted, not erect.
It bears a bloom which petals form a cross,
And berries of red, whose blood was a loss
Its existence left so His can reflect
On Jesus Christ, who set His children free
By dying on the sacred Dogwood tree.