High on a hill

High on a hill in an ugly fountain
Sits an ugly tree
In mem'ry of a girl that died
Whose name was Emily.

This tree, I said, is quite ugly
If I may be so bold
But the sentiment behind
Is worth its weight in gold.

In absurdity there is
Beauty through and through
Don't laugh; I challenge you to think:
What if it were you?

Our life is like a grave in a fountain
Our faith is dead; can't even move mountains
But we rest on a fountain of love
That pours fourth life from God above

This tree is a monument, testament to all
That God is who gives life
I still shudder; this gravely marker
Marks both joy and strife

Each branch, cone, twig, and needle
Reminds us of the fall
Of life, and death and how on such
A tree God saved us all.