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. 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.

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. 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.