 | Devotional Poems |  |
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TO THE QUEEN OF THE MOST HOLY
ROSARY
Give me a rose, my Mother,
A rose, I pray,
Out of your fadeless garden,
All fresh to-day;
Upon the scentful petals
Your blessing lay,
And give me, Queen and Mother,
A rose, I pray.
A rose, I pray,
Out of your fadeless garden,
All fresh to-day;
Upon the scentful petals
Your blessing lay,
And give me, Queen and Mother,
A rose, I pray.
What colour will the rose be,
O Mother bright?
Purer than the argent moonshine,
Of cloudless night;
Whiter than snow sun-smitten
On Alpine height;
White with your own soul's whiteness,
God's matchless white.
Yes, give me, dear my Mother,
This rose of white.
O Mother bright?
Purer than the argent moonshine,
Of cloudless night;
Whiter than snow sun-smitten
On Alpine height;
White with your own soul's whiteness,
God's matchless white.
Yes, give me, dear my Mother,
This rose of white.
Or will the petals, Mother,
Be crimson-dyed,
Red as your own Compassion,
The ebbless tide
That flowed at full when Jesus
Hung crucified?
Give me this rose, my Mother,
Deep-crimson-dyed.
Be crimson-dyed,
Red as your own Compassion,
The ebbless tide
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Hung crucified?
Give me this rose, my Mother,
Deep-crimson-dyed.
Another rose, O Mother,
A rose of gold,
Each petal a ray of glory,
The glory untold
Of the light of the Sun of Justice,
Your hand doth hold—
O Mother mine, that fairest—
That rose of gold.
A rose of gold,
Each petal a ray of glory,
The glory untold
Of the light of the Sun of Justice,
Your hand doth hold—
O Mother mine, that fairest—
That rose of gold.
Two roses, white and crimson,
Of your fair grace,
Give to my bosom's keeping,
And bid me trace
In purity and loving,
With steadfast pace,
The way to the unveiled splendour
Of Jesus' Face.
The Golden Rose that is not
Of time or space.
Of your fair grace,
Give to my bosom's keeping,
And bid me trace
In purity and loving,
With steadfast pace,
The way to the unveiled splendour
Of Jesus' Face.
The Golden Rose that is not
Of time or space.
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