The Rose Candle

You never know where you’ll find an idea when you begin a painting, especially a liturgical painting like the paschal candle. You can spend quite a bit of time searching scriptures, reading hymnals or plowing through books of religious art just trying to find some inspiration. But the vision for this candle came from none of these, initially it came from a yard sale.

Bringing home a large stack of dusty albums from my sisters yard sale we were surprised to find a good number of Christmas albums. Christmas music has remained pretty much unchanged over the years. So as the season approached no one seemed to notice the Ray Coniff Singers or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir being any different than music you might pick up at Pottery Barn or Williams Sonoma. The albums however, were a little scratchy and you had to listen close. Sometimes very close.

Hidden beneath the pops and hisses of one of these tracts began this paschal candle. The music is by Tchaikovsky with lyrics by Manney, who I’m sure were probably long gone before this album was produced in the 1960’s. When people are inspired, as this music is, does the artist know that it will inspire others? And how long will that inspiration last? Well, his inspiration comes to us from 1893. I’m glad they sent it. Hisses pops and all.

When Jesus Was a Little Child

When Jesus was a little child,
He made a garden in the wild,
there grew a rose bush neath his care
(yielding a garland for his hair.)
It blossomed full upon the gate,
where precious children came and went.

They tore the rose bush from its bed
stripped all it’s leaves and blossoms red.
(When will thou wouldst thy garden bare)
Their taunting voices smote the air.
Leave but for thee thy naked thorn
the Christ requited without scorn.

(Then with the) thorns both sharp and bare
they bound a garland for his head.
See where as red as roses grow
great drops of blood renew his brow.

The candle is the song. The garland no longer enthrones his head for he has defeated death. It encircles his feet, He trods upon it. Great drops of blood from his hands have caused roses to grow. Never to symbolize death but to represent life, the roses bloom amid the thorns. The roses have overgrown the hammer and broken it, they have ensnared the nails and hold them fast. They are the keys forever rusting at the foot of the cross, the gate to our salvation.

This design was a custom-ordered hand-painted candle. If you would like details, please contact me at patsheehan@fourthwallmurals.com.

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