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The joy of God unfurls like myrrh’s sweet breath,
A strength that rises, fragrant through the soul,
Its aroma swirls where sorrow’s embers seethe,
And bids the heart with heaven’s balm be whole.
As frankincense ascends from sacred flame,
So joy ignites beneath a burdened sky,
A perfume bold, it drowns the sting of shame,
And lifts the weary where despair would lie.
Like roses pressed, its richness stains the air,
A strength distilled from Christ’s own tender might,
Through winds of trial, its attar lingers there,
A scent of triumph blooming in the night.
O breathe this grace, let jasmine gild your frame,
For joy’s aroma bears the Savior’s name.

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