The Crown of Roses

When Jesus Christ was yet a child

He had a garden small and wild

Where-in he cherished roses fair

And wove them into garlands there

Now as the summertime drew nigh

There came a troop of children by

And seeing roses on the tree

With shouts they plucked them merrily

"Do you bind roses in your hair?"

They cried in scorn to Jesus there

The boy said humbly "Take I pray

All but the na-ked thorns away"

Then of the thorns they made a crown

And with rough fingers pressed it down

Till on his forehead fair and young

Red drops of blood like roses sprung