Give me the crown of thorns; let fair and sweet
The roses in the garden bloom;
Bedeck me not with garlands lest my feet
Should stumble 'neath the dense perfume,
And scarlet petals crushing stain the garments of my soul.

Give me the crown of thorns; the stately bay
Can only mighty brows adorn,
Of souls that shine as stars along the way.
Bestow on me the barren thorn,
To wait its chancing verdure as it pierces to my soul.