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Song 4:16 "Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.
5:1 I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat,O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved."


God purposed in His heart,
A garden to produce;
He chose the chiefest site,
Did not remain aloof.

Each day He came and tilled,
The soil needed breaking-up;
Huge boulders were removed,
Whole hillsides moved about.

A tree was planted here,
Another moved away;
In time the landscape changed,
Not a thing remained the same.

The mountains were a back-drop,
The clouds and sky above;
And every way you turned about,
Showed all of His great love.

A Master Gardner looks ahead,
He notices not the weeds;
He sees everything beautiful,
And, takes care of every need.

Digging deep, He planted bushes,
Some that flowered and some evergreen;
A profusion of varied colors,
Dark and light, and some inbetween.

Now, He off-set rows of color,
With a dab of white and blue;
And then, right in the middle,
A fountain from the rocks, did hew.

Rows of fruit trees on the South side,
On the North were cedar trees;
To the East were finest spices,
And the West, tall evergreens.

From the mountain He did chisel,
Chipped away, for all to see;
Beneath a ledge that was protruding,
There He formed a cleft for me.

In times of trial and trouble,
To God's Garden I can flee;
There He has a place of refuge,
Safe, protecting...real security.

Hand-in-hand we'll walk together,
Past the flowers...neath the trees;
Cool refreshing at the fountain,
In the cleft, He'll shelter me.

When the dark clouds hover o'er me,
Life's struggles wear me down;
To God's Garden I will journey,
In His and sound.

Aimee Love

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Aimee Love


From an old newspaper print.