The Mother of the Rose
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 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.
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 repose
This rose-tree in the fields afar, the mother of the rose.