Christ, when a Child, a garden made,
And many roses flourished there.
He watered them three times a day
To make a garland for His hair.
And when in time the roses bloomed,
He called the children in to share.
They tore the flowers from every stem,
And left the garden stript and bare,
"How wilt Thou weave Thyself a crown
Now that They roses are all dead?"
"Ye have forgotten that the thorns
Are left for Me, the Christ child said.
They plaited then a crown of thorns
And laid it rudely on His head;
A garland for His forehead made;
For roses: drops of blood instead.
Nathan Haskell Dole, 1852-1935
Divine Hymn of Love
Come down, O true Light!
Come down, Life Eternal.
Come down, Hidden Mystery.
Come down, Ineffiable treasure
Come down, O Constant Rejoicing.
Come down, Light that never fadeth
Come down, Eternal Joy.
Come down, Garland that never withereth.
Thou whom my miserable soul ardently
longs for and loves.
Come down, Thou who art alone, to
for I also am alone
Come down, Thou who hast transformed
into my desire..
-St. Symeon the New