"Just Like Love" (9 June 1868)
by Philip Paul Bliss, 1838-1876

[Source: pages 86-87, from No. 70, "Intermediate Course",
in "The Triumph" by George F. Root]

Just like love is yon-der rose,
Heav'n-ly fra-grance round it throws,
Yet tears its dew-y leaves dis-close,
And in the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, 
In the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, just like love.

Cull'd to bloom up-on the breast,
Tho' rough thorns the stem in-vest,
They must be gath-er'd with the rest,
And with it to the heart be press'd,
And with it to the heart be press'd.

Just like love is yon-der rose,
Heav'n-ly fra-grance round it throws,
Yet tears its dew-y leaves dis-close,
And in the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, 
In the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, just like love.

And then rude hands the twin buds sev-er,
They die, and they shall blos-som nev-er;
And yet, the thorns be sharp as ev-er,
be sharp as ev-er. Oh,

Just like love is yon-der rose,
Heav'n-ly fra-grance round it throws,
Yet tears its dew-y leaves dis-close,
And in the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, 
In the midst of thorns it blows,
Just like love, just like love, just like love.