The Sap Will Rise

Come to the quiet field-
come, lower your ears
to the frozen ground
and listen.

In eager expectation
creation waits and hopes
beneath the wintry weight
of yet more snow.

Come dry your face-
your dank and trepid brow
and lift your tired eyes
unto the hill.

All’s not lost
though all seems waste
and hollow and still
and most forlorn.

The sap will rise again
at His command and wake
the lifeless heart
to newness.

His righteousness is near
salvation’s not delayed-
His faithfulness does reign
from heaven.

Atop a lofty tree He broke
the tend’rest sprig, and yet
He set it high upon His hill to be
His noblest cedar.

Birds of every kind will flock
and nest and rest and dwell
among its luscious branches
and shelt’ring shade.

The LORD has spoken
His righteousness fulfills-
the Son is risen to highest honor
and endless praise.

Come to the waking field-
come, raise your voice with everything
that breathes and every glad tree
of the field!

Petra O. Hefner