The River's water bids me come, That lilting, loving voice Of lapping and rushing that calls me home, Chorus of disarming choice. Standing at the water's edge, A bruised reed, I lean To see a rippled, obscure face, Hardened and unclean. But grace would not have it so, So then chose I to cloak Myself in the River (who is Christ, With His cleansing, healing soak). No sooner were the stains removed, That justice was appeased, And a voice from heaven, still and small cried, 'This is my son, in whom I am well pleased'.…

This Garden has been trodden on, It's face beaten beneath The brash and brutish blows Of the sinners' feet. Man did come to wreck this soil, And with a hand they struck The grass, the ground's glorious beard, And from it did they pluck. But such a thing was not enough To sate such evil thirst, For this Garden's beauty did so shine That evil appeared the worst. So sinners did devise a plan To bring a kiss impure To the Garden, to end its very life, That evil may endure. 'Rip the dahlia and the rose, The Tender Shoot must die', Said one of them to another. In unison they cry, 'Strip the hedges and the bushes, That naked This may be', A Garden stripped of clothes and glory, For men to look and see. So pleased they were to see their work When it's beauty they did rend, A Garden, fair, now brought to wreck, In a parched and thirsty land. But little did the sinner know, This Garden's precious life Was offered up before the throne To end all sin, all guilt, all strife. Just one last time they struck the ground, In the Garden's East, To end the matter, to kill the Garden, But 'twas life that was released. Water came shooting forth In a dry and thirsty land, Streams of mercy, streams of life, That other gardens may stand. Look to the Garden now, dear sinner, For to this day It stands. 3 days later It rose again With blooms, a beautiful Land. Do not move to left or right, For all that you must do Is trust the Garden absorbed your sin. Repent, and be made new.…

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