In the Garden.

—C. Austin Miles.

I.

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.

 

II.

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,

 

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.

 

III.

I’d stay in the garden with Him

Tho’ the night around me be falling,

But He bids me go;

Thro’ the voice of woe,

His voice to me is calling.

 

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.

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