To The Garden He Came

To the garden he came, silent and heavy.

To the garden he came, sorrowful, pleading.

In the dark of night he came,

Fording Kedron Brook he came,

Needing his Father he came

To pray.

He bade them to stay, except for the three.

He bade them to pray, on bended knee.

And so he went, and fell on his face,

And so He wept: Abba, gratiam Tuam da!

In the garden of Olives, all alone,

He relinquished His will to His Father's plan.

He relinquished His blood in the sweat that flowed

From His brow, in the garden, all alone.

He returned to the three, the sleeping three.

O, could you not stay on bended knee?

How weak is the flesh, yet the spirit strong!

Watch and pray. Watch and pray.

The chant is carried to us today.

The breeze soughed gently, that dreadful night,

The dove felt the rustling, took to flight.

The fruit of the trees, the olive trees,

Wept with Creator, wept in the night.

Wept throughout ages, that believers might

Along with the dove, feel the Saviour's plight.

Drink deeply, often, of the olive tree,

And remember the prayers that were prayed for thee.

Remember the Wind, the Oil and the Dove.

Remember the Anguish that was snuffed out by Love.

Remember, remember the Fruit of the Tree!