Here's a king's sword for her ransom, and here's a king's word to decree
Never to other than Christ and His poor let her servitude be!"
ROSA MYSTICA
By Denis A. McCarthy
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!
