Saturday, July 26, 2014

in the garden

I come to the garden alone,
 While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
 The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
 And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.
 I’d stay in the garden with Him,
 Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
 His voice to me is calling.
Charles A. Miles, 1913