In the Garden
By Austin C. Miles (1868-1946)
I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
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And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.
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And He walks with me and He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
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And the joy we share as we tarry there,
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None other has ever known.
He speaks and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds stop 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 is falling.
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling.
This is not the final notation