Roses

I went to gather roses and twine them in a ring, For I would make a posy, a posy for the King. I got an hundred roses, the loveliest there be, From the white rose vine and the pink rose bush and from the red rose tree. But when I took my posy and laid it at His feet I found He had His roses a million times more sweet. There was a scarlet blossom upon each foot and hand, And a great pink rose bloomed from His side for the healing of the land. Now of this fair and awful King there is this marvel told, That He wears a crown of linked thorns instead of one of gold. Where there are thorns are roses, and I saw a line of red, A little wreath of roses around His radiant head. A red rose is His Sacred Heart, a white rose is His face, And His breath has turned the barren world to a rich and flowery place. He is the Rose of Sharon, His gardener am I, And I shall drink His fragrance in Heaven when I die.