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I am the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valleys

June 1999 | by Faith Cook

Christ, the Lily of the valleys,

Son of God, in meekness clad,

Flow’ring in the soil of sorrows

Consolation of the sad;

Shyly hidden by the wayside

Veiled from unbelieving eyes,

Blooms in unassuming beauty –

Fairest flower of paradise.


Dark this valley of my weeping

Stretched along the pilgrim way,

Broken hopes and wistful longings

Tears by night and fears by day;

Can the lily of the valleys

Flourish in such hostile ground?

Yes, this flower can grow unhindered,

Where none other may be found.


Under thorn and threat’ning bramble,

Near each boulder of despair

There the lily of the valleys

Blossoms in abundance rare.

Let me stoop to pluck a lily,

Wear it ever in my heart

Solaced by its lowly fragrance

Till the night of tears depart.


When I tread that last dark valley

Through the shades of fearsome death,

Wage that final bitter warfare

Ere I yield my faltering breath,

I shall find the Christ of glory

Ever to my heart more dear,

Find the lily of the valleys

Hidden in some crevice there.

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