“The Garden,” Friend, Apr. 1989, 34
In springtime, when the world awakes,
I shoulder shovel, hoe, and rake
To till my garden’s rich brown earth
And plant the seeds that bring new birth.
The sun will coax the seedling out,
And rain will quench the thirsty sprout.
And if I keep the weeds away,
I’ll harvest vegetables someday.
I’m like a tender plant, I know.
I need much care if I’m to grow.
I’m planted in a family,
The rich soil of eternity.
As sunshine helps the sprouting seed,
My parents’ love is what I need
To help me firmly fix my roots,
Imbedded in the gospel’s truths.
I must pull out the weeds of sin
So gospel light may enter in.
And as leaves stretch to touch the sun,
My spirit yearns to know God’s Son.
My good works are the fruit I bear,
A harvest rich for all to share.
Celestial glory is my goal,
With God, the Gardener of my soul.