The Message

Who crafts this blameless chest?

Perfection is now charred-

For olive tree deemed blessed,

let its lumber be marred.

A dead man beat the nails

in the chaste olive wood.

This depraved man cries, ails,

building not one thing good.

Behold! The chest’s a tomb,

where God bids “lay down thy soul”.

Hark! The casket’s a womb,

where man reborn is made whole.

Who wakes this holy chest?

O! His Greatness manifest!

Death henceforth suffers arrest.

His crafted now and ever rest.