Now found is the fairest of roses,
Midst briars it sweetly reposes.
My Jesus, unsullied and holy,
Abode among sinners most lowly.
Since man his Creator deserted,
And wholly His image perverted,
The world like a desert was lying,
And all in transgressions were dying.
But God, as His promises granted,
A rose in the desert hath planted,
Which now with its sweetness endoweth
The race that in sinfulness groweth.
All people should now with sweet savor
Give praise unto God for His favor;
But many have ne’er comprehended
The rose to the world hath descended.
Ye sinners as vile in behavior
As thorns in the crown of the Savior,
Why are ye so prideful in spirit,
Content with your self-righteous merit?
O seek ye the places more lowly,
And weep before Jesus, the Holy,
Then come ye His likeness the nearest;
The rose in the valley grows fairest.
My Jesus, Thou ever remainest
My wonderful rose who sustainest
My heart in the fullness of pleasure;
Thy sweetness alone I will treasure.
The world may of all things bereave me,
Its thorns may assail and aggrieve me,
The foe may great anguish engender:
My rose I will never surrender.