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