When I must leave the earth, I hope to see
The gentle Master by a willow tree,
A wild canary pouring forth its song,
And a little river dancing all along
Its way through gardens. I would feel alone
And shy before Him on a golden throne,
But in a country garden, He would reach
His arms to me and speak the simple speech
I know. And I would run the Him and say,
"I'm glad you have a garden. May I stay
And help you tend it? Then I would not grieve
For all earth's beauty that I had to leave.
I know the ways of gardens, country-wild ..."
And he would smile and answer, "Yes, my child."
