"Let Not the Rose Fade"

[From The Rosicrucian Digest February 1962]

IT was so vivid that I have to accept it as a personal experience. Yet, since it occurred neither in time nor space, it must be called a dream.

I stood in a church, of what denomination I do not know. The reredos was taken up by a large crucifix of dark timber, with a carved figure set thereon.

Matins was about to begin. The organist took his place at the console. There was no minister or priest.

A thundrous note was struck, and the organist disappeared completely, but the music continued magnificent, defying description.

With the swelling of the music, the figure on the crucifix began to fade, to be supplanted by a climbing rose in full leaf covering the arms of the cross. An enormous red rose, palpitating with life, its petals translucent, appeared about three-quarters open. It was perfect; the whole of the church being filled with its fragrance, I was floating in an ecstasy of joy and peace. Then I heard a voice, rich and deep, intoning:

Let not the Rose fade.
By Faith shall it be sustained.
By Hope shall it be uplifted.
By Charity shall it be beautified.

Suddenly the organist was again visible, the dark timbers of the crucifix reappeared, and the minister was opening the service.

--A. C. T.

Rosicrucian Writings Online
"Let Not the Rose Fade" [From The Rosicrucian Digest February 1962] IT was so vivid that I have to accept it as a personal experience. Yet, since it occurred neither in time nor space, it must be called a dream. I stood in a church, of what denomination I do not know. The reredos was taken up by a large crucifix of dark timber, with a carved figure set thereon. Matins was about to begin. The organist took his place at the console. There was no minister or priest. A thundrous note was struck, and the organist disappeared completely, but the music continued magnificent, defying description. With the swelling of the music, the figure on the crucifix began to fade, to be supplanted by a climbing rose in full leaf covering the arms of the cross. An enormous red rose, palpitating with life, its petals translucent, appeared about three-quarters open. It was perfect; the whole of the church being filled with its fragrance, I was floating in an ecstasy of joy and peace. Then I heard a voice, rich and deep, intoning: Let not the Rose fade. By Faith shall it be sustained. By Hope shall it be uplifted. By Charity shall it be beautified. Suddenly the organist was again visible, the dark timbers of the crucifix reappeared, and the minister was opening the service. --A. C. T.

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"Let Not the Rose Fade"