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