The Garden

I saw the spot where our first parents dwelt;

And yet it wore to me no face of change,

For while amid its fields and groves, I felt

As if I had not sinned, nor thought it strange;

My eye seemed but a part of every sight,

My ear heard music in each sound that rose;

Each sense forever found a new delight,

Such as the spirit’s vision only knows;

Each act some new and ever-varying joy

Did my Father’s love for me prepare;

To dress the spot my ever fresh employ,

And in the glorious whole with Him to share;

No more without the flaming gate to stray,

No more for sin’s dark stain the debt of death to pay.