MY ROSE
My rose, my rose,
In the sunshine fair it grows,
In my garden, in my garden,
And I bury my face in its fragrant grace and beg its pardon.
In the sunshine fair it grows,
In my garden, in my garden,
And I bury my face in its fragrant grace and beg its pardon.
But when men's thoughts shall
Be illumined with things divine
This rose of mine
Shall raise its head and sing
Oh! give me joy and bliss
For higher things.
Be illumined with things divine
This rose of mine
Shall raise its head and sing
Oh! give me joy and bliss
For higher things.
A "Smile from God," a kiss, a breath
To light the wanderer, save from death.
And then ascending up to God as incense rare,
Going to Him who giveth all and hath to spare.
To light the wanderer, save from death.
And then ascending up to God as incense rare,
Going to Him who giveth all and hath to spare.