Who put the roses on the Cross?

He saw raised up majestically the sign

That brings hope and comfort to all human souls,

The sign to which many thousand hearts ardently confess –

The sign that overcame the power of bitter death

Fluttering in so many victorious flags:

A refreshing stream filled his heavy limbs

He saw the Cross and dropped his eyes.

He felt again the salvation that sprang from thence,

He felt the faith of half the earth;

But, as he saw the image before his eye,

He felt himself inspired by new, unknown meaning –

The Cross stood densely hung about with roses!

Who added the roses to the Cross?

The garland of roses swelled, spread on all sides

To surround the hard wood with softness.

Light, silvery clouds soared,

Rose upward with Cross and roses,

And from the centre sprang holy life –

A threefold ray from a single point.

But not a word surrounded the image

To give the mystery sense and clarity.

In the gathering dusk growing grey and greyer,

The pilgrim stood, pondered, and felt himself raised up.

Goethe, The Mysteries

The Mysteries

I have made a wonderful song for you –

Hear it gladly! Call everyone to listen!

The way leads you through mountains and valleys.

Now your view is restricted, now it is free again.

If the path gently disappears into the bushes,

Don’t think it’s a mistake –

When the time is right, when we have climbed enough,

We shall approach our goal.

Let no one think, no matter how deeply they reflect,

That they will unravel all the wonders hidden here.

Nevertheless, many people will gain many things on this way

For Mother Earth produces many flowers.

Some may leave with downcast eyes,

But others, with cheerful gestures, will stay:

This way will bring everyone a different pleasure.

For the spring flows for many pilgrims.

Goethe, The Mysteries