The Way Of A Rose
I'm sure the rose that sweetly grows
Along the garden wall
Thinks not of tears beyond the wall
Or petals that may fall.
It lifts its face to God above
Serenely day by day
And questions not, if it should rain,
The wisdom of God's way.
I'm sure the rose that sweetly grows
Has burdens just as I;
The weather's far too wet, too cold,
And yet it asks not why.

Then how much more should I trust God
When days are dark and drear;
Then how much more should I give thanks
That God is always near?
Then how much more should I believe
God understand-He knows?
Then how much more should I trust God?
Am I...less than a rose?

Phyllis C. Michael

...He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him I will trust

Psalm 91:2