by Gordon Ellsworth Young (1919 - 1998)

My Master from a garden rose
Language: English 
My Master in a garden lay,
perfumed with spices rare,
for tender hands had laid Him there
to rest amid the roses.

‘Twas on a cross they laid Him bare,
and pierced His hands with nails,
that we poor souls might live again
and be with Him in glory. Alleluia...

My Master from a garden rose
to go for us to heav’n,
and He will come and take us there,
to be with Him forever.

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Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2026-09-02
Line count: 12
Word count: 75