By Wynne Bruce

You, but see the glory of the rose

And know its petalled fragrance;

You, cannot see the reality

Or know the hidden beauty

That lives within its golden heart.

To you, its just a flower,

A pleasure to see, then you pass;

But there, in that one perfect flower,

The whole of creation is held,

And there, He lives, and waits, and hopes....

Copyright © 1975