TO THE ROSE OF GETHSEMANE. 
I look at thee, smiling with joy through my tears, 
Sweet Rose of Gethsemane, coffined for years : 
My eager hand took thee, thy grave-clothes unbound, 
When, lo ! in thy heart, a sweet perfume I found ; 
And when from thy petals the bands were untied, 
Like “ Rose Damascena ” thy fair cheek was dyed. 
No more will I weep, then, thou child of a day; 
When ages have passed, in their swift course away, 
Our Lord shall behold the redeem’d among men, 
And all his soul’s travail be satisfied then ; 
With each ransomed soul, will the perfume remain, 
Of those crimson drops from the Lamb that was slain. 
C. M. B. 
( 58 ) 
