Altar and Rose Short Version

Members in their first meeting Since Christ’s ill-fated event, Chose to gather secretly, Roman soldiers evident. An altar, most remarkable For a church of but one room, Adorned with a long-stemmed rose, In full, and lively bloom! A man gently rubbed the altar, Touching the glistening wood, Noting smooth and polished grain, For wood, he understood. The pastor smiled, and said, “Yesterday a man came in, And gave us this altar, To put where the other had been. “After the Crucifixion, He took the cross to his shop, Cut the rough wood into planks, And smoothed them from bottom to top. “His heart must have burst with love, As he built the altar with care, Polished it to this glossy sheen, With a touch of artistic flair.” A member said, “This charming rose, In red, so rich and pure, With a lingering fragrance, Has such a lovely lure!” “Yes,” the pastor continued, “An aged woman came inside, And, while telling the story Of this rose, she cried. “She had watched the Crucifixion, And stayed till all had gone. Observed at the foot of His cross, Thorns fallen from God’s Son. “Shame of the thorns must stop— For this, she would guard. Quickly taking them home, She buried them in her yard. “Three days later, a bright rose sprang up In the exact place, she chose. She felt compelled to bring to us, Its first blooming rose!”