How beautiful is the rose

That I watch and admire

Unsightly thorns cling

And I lose my desire

Though thorns are still green

My sins are sightless still

Of greed, gluttony and envy

That may cloud my mind and will

But all humans sin deep inside

And all roses have thorns too

If all human sin is green,

Does that make love and virtue red and blue?

If all humans are unsightly thorns

Then we sin-filled humans will be blossoming roses too.

Because as the crown rests on his brow

Us thorns cling still, crucified now.