I come to the garden alone,
while the dew is still on the roses.
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
the soon of God, discloses.
And he walks with me, and he talks with me,
and he tells me, I am his own.
And the joys we share, as we tarry there,
none other, has ever known.
He speaks and the sound of his voice,
is so sweet, the birds hush their singing.
And the melody, that he gave to me,
within my heart is ringing.
And he walks with me and he talks with me,
and he tells me I am his own.
And the joys we share, as we tarry there,
none other, has ever, known.

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