Roses in December

GOD GAVE His children memory
That in life's garden there might be
June roses in December.
But sin the Father's goodness scorns,
And weaves of them a crown of thorns,
That wounds when they remember.

Sharp, stabbing points of vain regret
Around my soul forever set,
Turn June into December.
Ah, Christ, Who wore my crown of thorns,
Have mercy on the heart that mourns,
Forgive, when I remember.
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