Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

To Dwell in a Garden

In wounded places, I sometimes dwell;
But yet, in a garden, I find all is well.

A man and a woman, a long time ago,
With God there beside them, in a garden did stroll.

Much later, our Savior, in deep agony,
Prayed — sweating blood — under a garden’s tree.

But, wonder of wonders, from death, did He not
Appear to a maiden? — “A gardener!” she thought.

Is heaven a garden?  My heart seems to tell,
Such sweet heaven for me, in a garden to dwell.

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