Hanging there for treason,
The crime we had committed,
Our rescue was the reason,
Our charge to Him was fitted.
Yoked now we to Him,
Both in and out of season,
Each member just a limb,
Plowing midst the heathen.
Treason
"And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city." – Isaiah 1:8
Cucumber Lodge 