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Composed by Joanne Beverley Edwards-Miller
© on October 29, 1999

The Rose of Sharon, bloomed to die,
To save a sinner such as I.

The Rose of Sharon, pruned and bred
To take away my shroud of dread.

The Rose of Sharon, plucked in its prime
To make amends for my heinous crime.

The Rose of Sharon, its thorns became
A crushing, bruising crown of shame.

The Rose of Sharon, its beauty shed,
As blood-drenched petals it freely bled.

The Rose of Sharon, that delicate flower,
Is forevermore my saving power.

is the Rose of Sharon.


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This web site is owned by Joanne Beverley Edwards-Miller and is copyright protected, 1999 through 2002.   The poems on this site are my own original works and are also copyright protected.   Kindly do not use my poetry without contacting me first for permission.
Thank you for respecting my work in this way.

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