In the Garden
By Charles Austin Miles (1868-1946)

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 is 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.