The flowers stand on proud
There where my Savior walks.
And they open their petals for Him to see
Their long lasting fragrance and beauty.
I cannot see His flowing robes of white
But I know there in my garden is Holy light.
For every flower He touches may
I know be lovelier the next day.
Like in the garden of Gethsemane
He prays where no one can see,
But I know He prays in my garden fair,
Because all the flowers bow their heads in
Whenever I feel the need to restore my soul,
I pray in the garden for He can make me whole.
Worry, sorrow and all life's troubles
Seem to melt away like soap bubbles.
For my Jesus knows I love him so much.
I await his tender touch,
Time will fly by and the appointed day
will come for us to meet I pray,
Face to face in this special place,
He will walk me through the garden gate.
©Carol (Cali) Oliver
James 1: 6~7
But let him ask in faith,
For he that wavereth is like a wave of
the sea driven with the wind and tossed.
For let not that man think that he shall
receive any thing of the Lord.
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