A Precious Rose by TaulTales.com

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A Precious Rose

In a garden a rose once grew beside a pathway old and small.
With every day, so much to see. . .the birds, the bees and mountains, tall.
The brightest days and starlit nights had coaxed her steady upward climb.
With thorns around her, safe at last. . .planted near a fruited vine.

Stronger, as the weeks went by. . .deeper, was her color, red.
Soothed by rain drops heaven sent. . .strengthened by her earthly bed.
She noticed as each day went by that larger, grew the daily throng
of voices, passing now and then, and chased away the bluebird’s song.

“All the sick and crippled come to see this man, whom they believe.
My peaceful world is not the same. . .how I wish he’d make them leave.
Does he look upon my life? Can’t he once just come to me
and bring with him the bluebird’s song, and the honeysuckle bee?”

Then one lonely afternoon, as she over heard him say;
“To my Father I must go, but will return for you one day.
I am the vine, you are the branch. . .bear fruit and remain in me.
Then ask me anything you wish and of my Father, it will be.”

She looked about and felt alone. . .different was she, from the rest.
She was not the fruited vine, nor in other colors, dressed.
Star light came, her head bent low. . .a prayer she whispered as she wept.
Tears brought on by evening dew as old and faded while she slept.

Again, that same familiar voice woke her from her slumber state.
Bringing Peter, James and John. . ."Now keep a watch for me. . .and wait.”
Suddenly the wind had stirred and cleansed by every breeze she felt.
Finally this man had come and down beside her, he had knelt.

The other men fell fast asleep while angels came from all around.
Their heads were bent with him in prayer as his face fell to the ground.
“Oh my Father, take from me this death that leaves me broke in two.
Yet in Your arms I’d rather be. . .forsake me not, what I go through.”

Desperately she called to him, “Jesus, can’t you hear my plea!
Give to me what I had lost in this garden of Gethsemane.”
His legs were weak and shaking so, but she was there to help him stand.
He grabbed her, then began to fall. . .broken by his heavy hand.

There she laid beside his head crying in her own despair,
“Jesus, now what good am I? Your weight, too much for me to bear.”
His tears and agony were such that drops of blood fell from his face.
He barely saw the rose that caught the last drop, as he left that place.

She watched him slowly walk away and thought, ‘He’s left me here to die.’
She offered up her one last prayer as she watched the starlit sky.
“Oh my Father, take from me this death that leaves me broke in two.
Yet in Your arms I’d rather be. . .forsake me not, what I go through.”

Hours passed, the sky turned black when suddenly, aloud, he cried.
Her Savior's voice she heard no more. . .she too, in that same hour, died.

In a garden this same rose grows beside a pathway, gold and new.
With joy, she hears the bluebirds sing and watched them as above, they flew.
Again a once familiar voice. . .in royalty and glory, dressed.
And there he sat upon his throne. . .“Oh Precious Rose, for you are blest.

The only one that kept a watch beside me when I cried and prayed.
Then gave your life to help me stand till broken, you and I had laid.
Beautiful, you are to me and in my garden you will grow.
Near my throne I’ll watch you bloom as past you, crystal waters flow.

Oh, Precious Rose, I heard your prayers and all that you would ask, I give,
as those who call my name and trust. . .with me forever, they will live.”

© Cheryl Taul
February 26, 1995

Song “Ten Thousand Angels“ Written by Lynn Cooper
at Songs Of Praise
http://songsofpraise.org/index.htm