John Newton

(24 July 1725 – 21 December 1807 / London, England)

The Garden - Poem by John Newton

A Garden contemplation suits,
And may instruction yield,
Sweeter than all the flow'rs and fruits
With which the spot is filled.

Eden was Adam's dwelling place,
While blest with innocence;
But sin o'erwhelmed him with disgrace,
And drove the rebel thence.

Oft as the garden-walk we tread,
We should bemoan his fall;
The trespass of our legal head
In ruin plunged us all.

The garden of Gethsemane,
The second Adam saw,
Oppressed with woe, to set us free
From the avenging law.

How stupid we, who can forget,
With gardens in our sight,
His agonies and bloody sweat,
In that tremendous night.

His church as a fair garden stands,
Which walls of love enclose;
Each tree is planted by his hand,
And by his blessing grows.

Believing hearts are gardens too,
For grace has sown its seeds;
Where once, by nature, nothing grew
But thorns and worthless weeds.

Such themes to those who Jesus love,
May constant joys afford;
And make a barren desert prove
The garden of the Lord.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010



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