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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Rose of Roses.
Oh, the treasures of the Spring,
Crimson, blue, and golden!
Scattered from her radiant wing,
Nothing is withholden.
Myriad blossoms ope each hour,
Who shall tell the fairest?
But I miss the sweetest flower,
Rose, of roses rarest.
Crimson, blue, and golden!
Scattered from her radiant wing,
Nothing is withholden.
Myriad blossoms ope each hour,
Who shall tell the fairest?
But I miss the sweetest flower,
Rose, of roses rarest.
Oh, the glory of the light,
Through the noontide beaming!
Oh, the stars of purple light,
Through the darkness gleaming!
But the star of softest ray,
Clearest, purest, whitest,
Shineth only far away,
Star, of stars the brightest!
Through the noontide beaming!
Oh, the stars of purple light,
Through the darkness gleaming!
But the star of softest ray,
Clearest, purest, whitest,
Shineth only far away,
Star, of stars the brightest!
Oh, the music everywhere!
Joyous larks are singing,
Rivulets are flowing fair,
Merry chimes are ringing.
But I miss from day to day
Music that is dearest,
Even thine, though far away,
Heart, of hearts the nearest.
Joyous larks are singing,
Rivulets are flowing fair,
Merry chimes are ringing.
But I miss from day to day
Music that is dearest,
Even thine, though far away,
Heart, of hearts the nearest.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |