O Mystic Rose, in God's fair garden growing,O Mystic Rose, in Heaven's high courtyard blowing—Make sweet, make sweet the pathway I am going,O Mystic Rose!
The darkling, deathward way that I am going,O Mystic Rose!O Rose, more white than snow-wreath in December!
O Rose, more red than sunset's dying ember,
My sins forget, my penitence remember,O Mystic Rose!
Though all should fail, I pray that thou remember,O Mystic Rose!O Mystic Rose, the moments fly with fleetness;
To judgment I, with all my incompleteness—
But thou, make intercession by thy sweetness,O Mystic Rose!
Be near to soothe and save me by the sweetness,O Mystic Rose!
Monday, May 2, 2011
By Denis Aloysius McCarthy