This garden is a magical place of soil and seed,
Life springs forth but it isn't my deed,
No, the growth and the increase are all from His hand,
I pour the water, but life is His command.
There are many flavors of jobs to be done,
And my Master guides me through many, not one,
Today I may sow, tomorrow I reap,
I know not the next task when I off to sleep.
Much that I do seems not gardening at all,
As I respond to what I hear from my good Master's call,
But tools must be fixed, and others be fed,
These tasks seem unimportant when I am misled.
Some days I am called away from the land,
My job for the day I don't understand,
There is much to do that seems so strange,
But my Master is wise and never will change.
So I know in my heart His directions are good,
As I study my gardening when I wish that I could
Be out in the fields in sunshine and rain,
Plowing and planting and reaping the grain.
I was called to the East on one former day,
Where I found a colorful, fragrant bouquet,
The flowers all different, and yet all the same,
As the ones in the land from which I came.
They were all gathered together in a bright silver vase,
With sweet smells and bright colors they filled up the place,
Their laughter and songs floated up to the skies,
We were all bound together with unbreakable ties.
I offered the plain water I'd brought in my can,
But He took it from me and put another in my hand,
So I watered with life that comes from above,
And we wept as we prayed and discovered our love.
But soon my dear Master called me away,
To start on a new task which befit the new day,
It seemed so unfair to leave my new friends,
But we each had a new section of garden to tend.
He brought me back home to this very field,
Where my own special tree to my heart had been sealed,
We had spent the warm days here together in the sun,
Wondering if some day we two could be one.
But look at what remains of my tree here with me,
A bare stump which is rotting where she used to be,
My Master did put a sharp axe in my hand,
And told me to separate her from this land.
I protested and argued and cried out in vain,
But He repeated His words and they were the same:
"She must be cut down, and that is My will"
So I did as He said in the darkness and chill.
Then He took her away in His loving arms,
Promising me that she wouldn't be harmed,
But the loss was so much and my strength was so small,
That I could not believe it had happened at all.
And then as I looked at the remains in the ground,
I saw a dread disease, one that can only be found
With the vision of the Master and His piercing eye,
The fact of this sickness that would make her die.
So He took her away and from tales I have heard,
She is planted again and drinks from His Word.
Those who have seen her do say her blooms are aglow,
And her root of new life will forever grow.
Again I have learned that my Master knows best,
Though it seems each new day brings along a new test,
So I listen and learn and try to obey,
And love Him much more than the previous day.
I am often confused and don't understand,
But I don't need to know to do what He's planned,
So I lift up my head as I sing and I pray,
I repeat these words that He taught me to say:
I work in my Master's garden,
Where spirit meets dust,
And I learn to trust,
Through this work in my Master's garden.