THE RED ROSE
by A. A. P.

A white-faced wreck upon the bed she lay,

And reaped the whirlwind of her yesterday.

Before her rose the record of the past,

And sin's dark wages all were due at last.

A gentle messenger of God was there,

Who kissed her brow and smoothed her

tangled hair ;

And, in the tend'rest accents, told of One

Who died for her—God's well-beloved Son.

"No power could ransom such as me," she

            cried,

"No cleansing stream my crimson sins could

            hide;

For souls like yours there may be pardon free;

The Son of God would never stoop to me."

"I bring a gift of love," the listener said,

"This dewy rose of richest, deepest red.

Will you not take it? Have you not the

            power?"

The trembling fingers reached and grasped the

            flower.

"My sister," said the giver, "Just as I

Held out to you that rose of scarlet dye,

God offers you salvation from above,

Through Jesus' precious blood—His gift of

            love.

"Reach out and take it without doubt or fear."

"Is it so simple?" sobbed the girl, "So near?" _

"Ay, nearer to you than myself He stands,

Eternal life within His pierced hands."

"So simple, Lord?" she moaned. "Nothing

            to do,

But reach and take eternal life from you?

I take it, Lord !" And lo, the dying eyes

Were radiant with the light of Paradise!

O death triumphant ! Victory complete !

Today she worships at her Savior's feet.

Lost one, God offers you for Jesus' sake

Eternal life. Will you not reach and take?