Rare are the roses,
That bloom in the spring,
Their color, a sight to behold.
A lovely bouquet, tied up with a string,
Can bring joy, to a down-hearted soul.
God planted a garden of people, on earth,
And many colors, He chose.
Each one is equal, in beauty, and worth,
As rare, as the loveliest rose.
Someday, soon, our Saviour will come,
And sever the thorn from the rose,
He'll hold, in His arms, the lovely bouquet,
From all of the colors He chose.
Jeannette E. Smith