I am a rose of beauty, rare, and the finest on the vine.
The greatest rose beyond compare so splendid and divine!
Just look around and you will see how other roses tilt
Imperfect, yet they’re friends to me. Yes even those that tilt.

Yes I am proud I have the right. I’m perfect, safe, and free.
Each day the sun shines brilliant light…and does it just for me!
I sit upon my branch so high and look down the rest.
Here comes my gardener by and by He knows that I’m the Best!

What’s that He has there in His hand so shiny and so sharp?
“A brand new sheer is what I have to cut your branch apart.”
I said, “No! You can’t do this to me to something great and free
If you do this….then you will miss the Beauty that is ME!” He grabbed me in his hand.

Then the cut came from its pain and I felt the pruning of his knife.
So cruel this bitter hand I’m dealt. He took away my life. He cut me down giving me Your pity all. I lay upon this cold, hard ground where once I stood so tall.

I won’t stand for this. What I say won’t yield though I’ve no choice.
I’ll plant myself this very day…hey can’t you hear my voice?
The gardener doesn’t notice me. He goes about His work.
I think I’ll grow some legs and flee and do it with a smirk!

“Poor little rose; you have no power to grow yourself feet.
Just wait, you’re my special flower so precious and so sweet.”
His special flower He says to me? I hate to be His worst.
His special plan I cannot see. I only feel His curse!

Then He gathered the pruned flowers. I said, “Hey gardener, What about me?”

The flames grew so high and the screams were so loud. Could this have been my fate?
How he could save someone so proud? Must be because I’m great! Okay my gardener; Take me to that mansion you call home. He pushed me down with all His might and pressed me with His hands.
The pressure on me was so tight, and I couldn’t stand the pain.

When He was done I couldn’t look, but I had just had to see
My outward beauty He had took. I felt a change in me!

No longer do I care about things that used to be my pride
At times I feel as though I’ve wings with the gardener at my side.
He carried me up to that steep hill to the mansion that He made.
He placed me on His window sill.
As time went by, and from that perch such wonders I did see.
From all directions, I could search pressed flowers just like me!

His plan is clear if you’ve the ear though troubled you may feel.
No need to fear when sorrows near. You’re walking in His will.
All flowers grow below His hill, and they only last a season.
Remember that this is God’s will; and don’t try to find the reason.

Some flowers smell so wonderful and look great in the vase,
But comes the season they get pulled to look God in the face.
So don’t judge flowers He has blessed by their smell and look.
It’s only flowers He had pressed that end up in His Book!