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The Garden

by Susan Mouw
http://roadtothecross.org/

The tired man, with aching feet,
Trod through the desert sand.
No plants, no trees, no sounds of birds
Intruded in this harsh land.

For many miles he had walked
And many more he had yet to go.
He knew not the journey's end
He knew only he must go.

The journey was hard and solitaire.
He felt the loneliness closing in
And in a voice filled with pain,
He cried to God for someone to help him.

The heat of the desert sun
Bore down and scorched the ground.
A single drop of sweat released
And fell from the man's brow.

The drop of life-giving water
Fell softly by his feet
And, all at once, the earth burst forth
with flowers as far as he could see.

Where moments before there had only been
An arid desert ground.
A profusion of color, of life, and scent
Now filled the air around.

In bewilderment, the man looked up
And cried, "I don't understand.
How can this much life exist
Amidst this dry scorched land?"

And God looked down and gently smiled
And spoke quietly to the man.
"Don't question the origins of the garden.
Just trust the work of my Hand."

"Just accept this as a gift from Me –
this exuberance of color gone wild.
Just rest a bit in my garden here,
And enjoy the moment, my child."

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