A LITTLE STONE FROM HIS GARDEN
I took a walk in The Garden
In which my Jesus prayed,
Where blood dripped from His every pore
And innocent nerves were frayed.
I felt His presence around me
Felt His love within my heart.
I kneel beside a lonely tree,
Pick up a stone 'fore I depart.
So many years ago that was,
That stone now worn so smooth,
But when I need it the very most
That stone, my nerves, does soothe.
I carry it with me everyday
To feel my Lord so near
And when I rub it the very most
My Savior, I do hear.
He tells me that He loves me,
That for my sin He died,
And from His glorious presence
I no longer have to hide.
And when I touch it's smoothness
A sense of peace I feel,
For the little stone from His Garden
Makes everything so real.
And when doubt seems to flicker
Or when I need Him more
I put my hand in my pocket
And rub that stone, Yes, His for sure.
Just a tiny little symbol
One of forgiveness and great pardon
A small symbol of the peace He gives
Just a little stone from His Garden.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
11-26-06
By Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem