I had a garden growing fair; I loved the flowers planted there.
They all had personality; each one became a friend to me.
I worked their roots and gave them drink, while tending them gave time to think
How my life like a flower grows: first seed, then shoot, then small bud shows.
As roots are deepened in the ground, at last one day, full bloom is found.
So too, my life in Christ begins: a seed of faith breaks winter’s sins
And tender shoots of hope and love spring forth beneath the Son above.
He loves His children planted here; He stirs our roots and prunes with care.
When storms and darkness hold me back and Satan’s weeds of doubt attack,
I turn my face to God’s dear Son and see in Him the work is done.
Sometimes there’s pain straight from His hand, and I don't really understand
How discipline and training here keep me from sin through reverent fear.
Yet while I live and move and breathe, His guarding presence does not leave.
Each day He helps me rest or grow, trust and obey; though winds may blow.
This is how the world will know I live in Him: His love will show.
And while the gentle gardener knows the time to take a bud or rose,
Our Heavenly Father knows best too the perfect time for me, for you.
He gathers us by His dear hand exactly when His will has planned.
Transplanting us to heaven’s home, we’ll bloom forever by His throne.
Created for His pleasure here, our pleasure is forever there.
Written March 13, 1996
Edited June 2007