An hour of toil in the garden,
Is always time well-spent
Tugging out those stubborn old weeds,
Which year upon year won't relent.

An hour spent tending the garden,
Is never wasted time,
Lungs full of wonderful sweet, Spring air,
Hands caked in dirt and grime.

It's hard to feel glum in the garden,
With birds chirping high in the trees,
Potting up Pansies, so cheery and bright,
Hair tugged about by the breeze.

Cutting the deadwood, turning the earth,
Allowing the sun to shine through,
Seems to clear my cluttered mind,
And lifts my spirits too.

Thank you dear Lord for my garden,
Humble and small though it be,
It's a place where so often I've felt You are near,
And Your joy surrounding me.

Once You knelt down in a garden,
And in terrible anguish You cried,
"Thy will, not Mine, be done O Lord!"
Abandoned.  Betrayed.  Denied.

One Sunday morn, in a garden,
You rose up again from the grave,
Bringing salvation and mercy and grace,
To the ones You came to save!

8 thoughts on “Garden Song

  1. I love your poem about working in your garden and how it refreshes and unclutters your mind and body. I also appreciated the reminder that Jesus once knelt in a garden before He died and then rose from a garden to everlasting life! Someday He will bring us home to the Garden!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you Lord, for this reminder of what you endured to pay the price for our sins. And for the ongoing removal of ‘dead wood’ and the ‘turning of the earth’ you faithfully perform in our lives so that we might grow into the beautiful Bride you have called us to become.

    Liked by 1 person

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