~In the Garden
Here is the account of how this beautiful hymn was written—from
the hymn-writer C. Austin Miles himself:
One day in April, 1912, 1 was seated in the dark room, where I
kept my photographic equipment and organ. I drew my Bible toward me; it
opened at my favorite chapter, John 20--whether by chance or inspiration
let each reader decide. That meeting of Jesus and Mary had lost none of
its power and charm.
As I read it that day, I seemed to be part of the scene. I became
a silent witness to that dramatic moment in Mary's life, when she knelt
before her Lord, and cried, Rabboni!
My hands were resting on the Bible while I stared at the fight
blue wall. As the light faded, I seemed to be standing at the entrance
of a garden, looking down a gently winding path, shaded by olive
branches. A woman in white, with head bowed, hand clasping her throat,
as if to choke back her sobs, walked slowly into the shadows. it was
Mary. As she came to the tomb, upon which she placed her hand, she bent
over to look in, and hurried away.
John, in flowing robe, appeared, looking at the tomb; then came
Peter, who entered the tomb, followed slowly by John.
As they departed, Mary reappeared; leaning her head upon her arm
at the tomb, she wept. Turning
herself, she saw Jesus standing, so did 1. 1 knew it was He. She knelt
before Him, with arms outstretched and looking into His face cried,
I awakened in sunlight, gripping the Bible, with muscles tense
and nerves vibrating. Under the inspiration of this vision I wrote as
quickly as the words could be formed the poem exactly as it has since
appeared. That same evening I wrote the music.
(1)I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear,
falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
(2) He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody
that He have to me
Within my heart is ringing.
(3) I'd stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go;
through the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling.