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.
Id 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.
"I read the story of the greatest morn in history. The
first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, while it was yet
very dark, unto the sepulcher. Instantly, completely, there unfolded
in my mind the scenes of the garden, where out of the mists comes a
form, halting, hesitating, tearful, seeking, turning from side to side
in bewildering amazement.
"Falteringly, bearing grief in every accent, with tear-dimmed eyes,
she whispers, 'If Thou has borne Him hence.'
"He speaks, and the sound of His voice is so sweet the birds hush
their singing. He said to her "Mary!"
"Just one word and forgotten are the heartaches, the long dreary
hours, all the past blotted out in His presence."
C. Austin Miles
Luke 20:18 - Mary Magdalene came and
told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that He had spoken
these things to her."
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