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In Memory of Grace

Out Where the Pines Grow
©2011 Gibbens/Weston


Out where the pines grow dark and tall,
Mary and Joseph are feeling small,
Out where the pines grow dark and tall
And night begins to fall,
The moon begins to rise
And stars to fill the skies where angels, midnight blue,
Singing round their heads they flew,
Each with a silver crown
And flame snows on the ground.

Green grow the reeds of Galilee,
Green grow the willows of Jordan,
Black is the sky over Calvary
And all the fields are golden.

Out where the pines grow dark and deep,
Travelling strangers try for sleep,
Out where the pines grow dark and deep
And beasts begin to creep,
Hungry, thin and grey.
Who’ll keep them at bay but angels’ silver spears
Where the trees hangs down their tears.
All night those emerald eyes
And empty iron cries.

Green grow the reeds of Galilee,
Green grow the willows of Jordan,
Black is the sky over Calvary
And all the fields are golden.

Out where the pines bow down their heads
Over the exiles’ stony bed,
Out where the pines bow down their heads,
The sun climbs clear and red,
The frozen stream it melts
With a sound like chiming bells down in the vale.
They pick up their rocky trail,
Father, son and mother
With no-one but each other.

Green grow the reeds of Galilee,
Green grow the willows of Jordan,
Black is the sky over Calvary
And all the fields are golden.

 

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