Rossetti: At morn I plucked a rose
Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
—Revelation 21:3-4 (NIV)
A Rose Plant in Jericho.
At morn I plucked a rose and gave it Thee,
A rose of joy and happy love and peace,
A rose with scarce a thorn:
But in the chillness of a second morn
My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase
Was but one thorn that wounded me.
I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee;
And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace,
Not joy this mortal morn:
If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn,
Wilt Thou not give me for my rose increase
Of gladness, and all sweets to me?
My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee
I offer; and I set my heart in peace,
&! nbsp; And rest upon my thorn:
For verily I think to-morrow morn
Shall bring me Paradise, my gift’s increase,
Yea, give Thy very Self to me.
... Christina Rossetti (1830-1894), Christina Rossetti: the complete poems, London: Penguin Classics, 2001, p. 224 (see the book)
See also Rev. 21:3-5; Matt. 7:13-14; 27:28-29; Mark 15:17; John 14:27; 2 Cor. 12:7
Quiet time reflection:
Lord, I offer You my trials.
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