We Meet in The Garden

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.


 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.


 Words: Charles Austin Miles (1912)

I know by heart this is the Garden of Gethsemane, the garden of agony before the Romans arrested Jesus. He pleaded, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Nevertheless, let it be as you, not I, would have it.” – Luke 22:42

Re-interpreting the passage into a song, the Garden has become a meeting place with Christ where He walks and talks with me, reassuring me I am his own.

Many years ago, I developed a habit of meeting Jesus in a garden by a stream of water studded with rocks and pebbles shaded by many trees. The foliage had turned gold that time; they were falling and fluttering in the wind; they gently fall drifting to the ground and cover the water.

I learned the imagery, the visualization in my quiet moments of prayer. Everyday, I met him in the garden where we talked for a while.

Yes…I miss those moments.

Those were the moments when my thoughts were pure. His voice was so clear.

One day, He will call me again and I will go back to the garden

…and meet him again just like the old days.


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