The garden

The Garden
I went to the garden in the spring of the year the thaw this spring was so slow

Cried out I did to my King

my Lord you I know – you did hear

This road is long and often hard

The miles so strange at times

I find the garden that you went into almost always has been mine

Smell the roses they oft say

Take a deep breath and breathe

loose your pack don’t carry a thing that is yours that you just –

“Have to bring”- to the Lord

The garden is where Jesus

let it all go

Though he troubled sweat blood on his brow

“You have not yet resisted to blood against sin – no I have sinned

My Lord you know how

Let it all go lay it all down

In the garden the rest comes when you die – To all of your want fears and needs

Come to this garden lay by his side watch for the hour it takes

For the world to leave -Stay there by Him and receive – Life

Author: Hubert Rondeau

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