Words & Music by Bob Ryan (C)1991
Recorded at Lakewood Media Recording Studios in 1995.
Recording Engineer: Ric Johnson.
Produced by Bob Ryan.
Players:
Featuring Farideh Tavakoli chanting in Arabic excerpts from the Baha'i Holy Writings.
Eugene Smith: Drums.
Mike Ward: Flute.
Auberte Cameau: Keyboards.
Laurel DeWitt: Backing Vocals.
Bob Ryan: Acoustic Guitar and Lead Vocals.
Lyrics
A cold wind; a prison cell
His Father lay in the Siyah Chal
Only four, he'd never known
The luxuries and peace of the family home
And left behind for seven years
As his vision grew through his loving tears
He served his Lord, endured the strain
His tender heart, and mind the truly free
O Purest Branch, a ransom
For a meeting of the friends
O Purest Branch, ransom given
For the gaining of the presence of our Lord
A hot day; the evening cool
He paced the roof in a state of prayer
And he fell, a sudden fate
An open skylight, down on an open crate
And the friends in shock beat upon their heads
Though the doctor came, he couldn't help
And the Purest Branch, he apologized
Ashamed to lay in the presence of the friends
There knelt his Lord and asked him
He'd grant it, if he wished to live
But the son he spoke instead
Of an open gate in the walls of a prison cell
And the Most Great Branch begged for healing
And lay prostrate at the feet of his Lord
O my Greatest Branch,
Leave him in the hands of his God