The Finest Rose

Show me the roses that grow above the thorns.
Show me the beauty that comes in many forms.
Show me the silk that overcomes the pricks.
Show me the red among the rugged sticks.

Show me the truth that overcomes the lie.
Show me the reason why Jesus Christ would die.
Show me the victory of You over death;
Thus would I give, till nothing I’d have left.

And yet, give me grace to live alone by faith.
Why wait to obey until it looks safe?
Why wait for sight to know there’s roses there?
Why wait for beauty to reflect Jesus fair?

For it’s then I find that…

It’s easiest to feel the thorns when reaching for a rose,
Cutting deep, showing flaws, and leaving us to foes.
And in our pain, we cry out, and find that by our call
We find Jesus, the finest rose of all.

All is Yours, All is Well

God, my dreams are wholly Yours.
My future is not mine.
My hopes and fears with all my tears
Are Yours as well, not mine.

God, my laugh is wholly Yours.
My smile is not my own.
My teeth and tongue, while I’m still young
Are Yours and not my own.

God, my past is wholly Yours:
My jumps and falls and more.
My highs and lows with the hard blows
Are Yours then much more.

God, it’s true this world is Yours.
My world is Yours as well.
My past, my now, my fate, and brow
Are Yours, so all is well.