Roses are red, Violets are blue
With these unwashable stains, what do you do?
Dressed for church but would the stain let her in?
It was five years now, and they always let her waltz in.
Could the deacons see it or were they distracted by her big hair and bright high heelin’?
Was it her changing body or the colour she got her hair dyed in?
Whatever, the way she saw it, some had their own bloodstained mouths in need of washin’
But as she sat with Dad’s hand in hers, there was something that got her attention
She had heard it before but now it was more than just words to sing
Would you be free from the burden of sin
What blood was this that there was power in?
Violets are blue, Roses are….white?
Take blood to turn crimson white. That can’t be right
For the past five years she never bothered to look up in church
To be honest the sight made her eyes hurt
The Pastor would go up to preach
But did he practice what he did speak?
Because the blood that stained his mouth made it hard for her separate lie from truth.
So she either stared at her feet or looked up to the roof
And Daddy was always there so that at least made it hurt less
But now, something she saw made the difference.
The stains were gone from Pastor’s countenance.
When he spoke, there was new confidence
“To be very honest, my week has been hell
And when y’all thought Pastor can never stumble, I fell
A weight had been on my shoulder for years
The shame, the anger, the fears
Yep, Pastor was strugglin’, just like you do
Only thing is I thought I was better than you
And I held on instead of handing my heart over to Him
I thought that being Pastor gave me permission to a little sin
Thank God I am not too good for the basics
For God so loved the world that He gave
His only Sons blood for us to save
His runaway, rebellious children, He gave the opportunity
The choice, even while we were His enemies
For anyone who would believe
And choose their sin to leave…..”
She had heard it before but the glorious sight to see
Was as Pastor spoke, his lips did not bleed
Not a drop, it was all true
His whole sermon through and through.
God’s love, God’s mercy, washing away, all true.
Roses are red, Violets are Blue
This is whats true, this is whats true
She did not know whether he made an altar call or if she had run
But she remembered standing in front of the pulpit when he was done
She could not remember if a song had been sung
But she remembered that the church was empty when he had come
Pastor had a smile on his face, a clean, bloodless smile
“O Child, no! No!
This cleanness, I can’t give you, it does not work so!
It is much better. It’s grace. You can ask Him yourself.
Yes, yourself, the same way I got it from Him
I don’t need to know but He knows and wants to wash a way the sin
He wants His child to walk with Him, hand in hand, and clean.
Just your, heart child, will you give it to Him?”
As she knelt and spoke her apology
She did not feel a jolt or a surge of energy
But when she arose and looked in the pulpit’s polished glass
She saw herself with a clean face, just as it was in the past
Restoration could be seen in the mirror reflection staring back.
I wish this was the story’s end
And not with a deadly twist or bend
But that is where we began so let’s get to the end
And it all began when she let him in
With a red rose.