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 Here's a king's sword for her ransom, and here's a king's word to decree Never to other than Christ and His poor let her servitude be!"

ROSA MYSTICA

O Mystic Rose, in God's fair garden growing, O Mystic Rose, in Heaven's high courtyard blowing— Make sweet, make sweet the pathway I am going, O Mystic Rose! The darkling, deathward way that I am going, O Mystic Rose!

O Rose, more white than snow-wreath in December! O Rose, more red than sunset's dying ember, My sins forget, my penitence remember, O Mystic Rose! Though all should fail, I pray that thou remember, O Mystic Rose!

O Mystic Rose, the moments fly with fleetness; To judgment I, with all my incompleteness— But thou, make intercession by thy sweetness, O Mystic Rose! Be near to soothe and save me by the sweetness, O Mystic Rose!