The Rose of the World
The Rose of the World went weeping
and many the tears the Rose shed;
they flowed like a river softly
on a world that was dry and dead.
The Rose of the World was heartsick;
the heart of the Rose broke and bled,
the mad world plaited a thorn crown
to cruelly pierce His fair head.
They crushed the Rose in its beauty,
and they nailed the Rose to a tree;
the Rose with His tears and His lifeblood
emptied out His fragrance on me.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
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