THE MOTHER OF THE ROSE

THE MOTHER OF THE ROSE

By James M. Hayes

I kneel on Holy Thursday with the faithful worshippingWhere Christ is throned in splendor as the sacramental King.I ever will remember it, that wondrous full-blown roseAmong the burning tapers on the altar of repose.O blessed among roses all, to bloom in beauty there,To give your heart unto your God and in His glory share.In quiet fields beyond the town, near where the river flowsThere is a humble garden where a gentle rose-tree grows.To-night Our Lord remembers on the altar of reposeThis rose-tree in the fields afar, the mother of the rose.

I kneel on Holy Thursday with the faithful worshippingWhere Christ is throned in splendor as the sacramental King.I ever will remember it, that wondrous full-blown roseAmong the burning tapers on the altar of repose.O blessed among roses all, to bloom in beauty there,To give your heart unto your God and in His glory share.In quiet fields beyond the town, near where the river flowsThere is a humble garden where a gentle rose-tree grows.To-night Our Lord remembers on the altar of reposeThis rose-tree in the fields afar, the mother of the rose.

I kneel on Holy Thursday with the faithful worshippingWhere Christ is throned in splendor as the sacramental King.

I kneel on Holy Thursday with the faithful worshipping

Where Christ is throned in splendor as the sacramental King.

I ever will remember it, that wondrous full-blown roseAmong the burning tapers on the altar of repose.

I ever will remember it, that wondrous full-blown rose

Among the burning tapers on the altar of repose.

O blessed among roses all, to bloom in beauty there,To give your heart unto your God and in His glory share.

O blessed among roses all, to bloom in beauty there,

To give your heart unto your God and in His glory share.

In quiet fields beyond the town, near where the river flowsThere is a humble garden where a gentle rose-tree grows.

In quiet fields beyond the town, near where the river flows

There is a humble garden where a gentle rose-tree grows.

To-night Our Lord remembers on the altar of reposeThis rose-tree in the fields afar, the mother of the rose.

To-night Our Lord remembers on the altar of repose

This rose-tree in the fields afar, the mother of the rose.


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