Jesus, to aid thy feeble powers
I see thy Mother's arms outspread,
As thou on this sad earth of ours
Dost set thy first, thy faltering tread;
See, in thy path I cast away
A rose in all its beauty dressed,
That on its petals' disarray
Thy feet, so light,
may softly rest. ...
Dear Infant Christ, this fallen rose
An image of that heart should be
Which makes, as every instant flows,
Its whole burnt-sacrifice to thee.
Upon thy altars, Lord, there gleams
Full many a flower whose grand display
Charms thee; but I have other dreams
Bloomless, to cast myself away.
For love of Loveliness supreme,
Dying, to cast myself away
Were bright fulfillment of my dream;
I'd prove my love no easier way;
Life, here below, forgotten still,
A rose before Thy path outspread
At Nazareth, or Calvary's hill
Relieve Thy last, Thy labouring tread.
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