Treasure for a thorn

At morn I plucked a rose and gave it Thee,
     A rose of joy and happy love and peace,
          A rose with scarce a thorn :
          But in the chillness of a second morn
     My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase
Was but one thorn that wounded me.

I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee,
     And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace,
          Not joy this mortal morn :
          If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn,
     Wilt Thou not give me for my rose increase
Of gladness, and all sweets to me?

My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee
     I offer ; and I set my heart in peace,
          And rest upon my thorn :
          For verily I think to-morrow morn
     Shall bring me Paradise, my gift’s increase,
Yea, give Thy very Self to me.

Christina Georgina Rossetti
“A Rose Plant in Jericho”
Dated before 1876