There’s a garden where Jesus is waiting,
There’s a place that is wondrously fair,
For it glows with the light of His presence.
’Tis the beautiful garden of prayer.

Refrain

Oh, the beautiful garden, the garden of prayer!
Oh, the beautiful garden of prayer!
There my Savior awaits, and He opens the gates
To the beautiful garden of prayer.

There’s a garden where Jesus is waiting,
And I go with my burden and care,
Just to learn from His lips words of comfort
In the beautiful garden of prayer.

Refrain

There’s a garden where Jesus is waiting,
And He bids you to come, meet Him there;
Just to bow and receive a new blessing
In the beautiful garden of prayer.

Refrain

My Jesus, I would ne’er forget,
That hour I spent with Thee;
When there I saw Thy bloody sweat
In dark Gethsemane.

Refrain

I’ll ne’er forget, I’ll ne’er forget,
I’ll ne’er forgetful be,
When there I saw Thy bloody sweat
In dark Gethsemane.

’Twas in that olive grove I felt
That Thou hadst died for me;
Alas, how great I saw my guilt
While in Gethsemane.

Refrain

I thought of how Thy heart did throb,
While “all” Thine own did flee,
And left Thee with the cruel mob,
In sad Gethsemane.

Refrain

’Twas there I felt my grief and shame
In oft forsaking Thee,
How precious was Thy very Name
In dear Gethsemane.

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Should e’er our love to Thee grow cold,
And we forgetful be,
We’ll call to mind Thy love untold
While in Gethsemane.

Refrain

Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the tempter’s power;
Your Redeemer’s conflict see, watch with Him one bitter hour,
Turn not from His griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

See Him at the judgment hall, beaten, bound, reviled, arraigned;
O the wormwood and the gall! O the pangs His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; learn of Christ to bear the cross.

Calvary’s mournful mountain climb; there, adoring at His feet,
Mark that miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete.
“It is finished!” hear Him cry; learn of Jesus Christ to die.

Early hasten to the tomb where they laid His breathless clay;
All is solitude and gloom. Who has taken Him away?
Christ is risen! He meets our eyes; Savior, teach us so to rise.

Oh, what wondrous love I see,
Freely shown for you and me,
By the One Who did atone!
Just to show His matchless grace,
Jesus suffered for the race,
In Gethsemane, alone.

Refrain

Oh, what love, matchless love,
Oh, what love for me was shown!
His forever I will be,
For the love He gave to me,
When He suffered all alone.

“Tarry here,” He told the three,
“Tarry here and watch for Me,”
But they heard no bitter moan;
For the three disciples slept
While my loving Savior wept
In Gethsemane, alone.

Refrain

Long in anguish deep was He,
Weeping there for you and me,
For our sin to Him was known;
We should love Him evermore
For the anguish that He bore
In Gethsemane, alone.

Refrain

Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent,
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him.
The little grey leaves were kind to Him,
The thorn tree had a mind to Him,
When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master came
And he was well content;
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content with death and shame.
When death and shame would woo Him last,
From under the trees they drew Him last,
’Twas on a tree they slew Him—last
When out of the woods He came.

Low in Thine agony,
Bearing Thy cross for me,
Savior divine!
In the dark tempter’s hour,
Quailing beneath his power,
Sorrowing yet more and more,
Thou dost incline.

O Lord of Heav’n and earth,
What sorrow unto death
Dost Thou sustain?
Thou dost in anguish bow:
Thou art forsaken now;
For me this cup of woe
Thou dost now drain.

In deep and trembling fears,
With crying strong and tears,
Now Thou dost pray.
“If it be possible
This cup so terrible,
Father most merciful,
Take it away.”

“Yet, Lord, Thy will be done;
Lo, I, Thine only Son,
This cup will drink.”
O wondrous love of Thine,
Unspeakable, divine;
To save this soul of mine
Thou wilt not shrink.

Savior, give me to share
Thy lowly will and prayer
In all my woe;
In my soul’s agony
Let me resemble Thee;
An angel strengthening me,
Let me, too, know.

Thy soul its travail saw,
And in its heavy woe
Was satisfied.
So let Thy sorrow, Lord,
Fullness of joy afford,
To life and God restored,
Through Him Who died.

Not now, my child, a little more rough tossing,
A little longer on the billows’ foam;
A few more journeyings in the desert darkness,
And then, the sunshine of thy Father’s home!

Not now, for I have wand’rers in the distance,
And thou must call them in with patient love;
Not now, for I have sheep upon the mountain,
And thou must follow them where’er they rove.

Not now; for I have loved ones sad and weary;
Wilt thou not cheer them with a kindly smile?
Sick ones, who need thee in their lonely sorrow;
Wilt thou not tend them yet a little while?

Not now, for wounded hearts are sorely bleeding
And thou must teach those widowed hearts to sing:
Not now; for orphans’ tears are quickly falling,
They must be gathered ’neath some sheltering wing.

Not now, for many a hungry one is pining,
Thy willing hand must be outstretched and free;
Thy Father hears the mighty cry of anguish,
And gives His answering messages to thee.

Go, with the Name of Jesus, to the dying,
And speak that Name in all its living power;
Why should thy fainting heart grow chill and weary?
Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour?

One little hour! and then the glorious crowning,
The golden harp-strings, and the victor’s palm;
One little hour! and then the hallelujah!
Eternity’s long, deep thanksgiving psalm!

My God! my God! and can it be
That I should sin so lightly now,
And think no more of evil thoughts
Than of the wind that waves the bough?

I sin, and Heav’n and earth go round,
As if no dreadful deed were done;
As if Thy blood had never flowed
To hinder sin, or to atone.

I walk the earth with lightsome step,
Smile at the sunshine, breathe the air,
Do my own will, not ever heed
Gethsemane and Thy long prayer.

Shall it be always thus, O Lord?
Wilt Thou not work this hour in me
The grace of Thy Passion merited,
Hatred of self, and love of Thee!

O by the pains of Thy pure love,
Grant me the gift of holy fear;
And by Thy woes and bloody sweat
Wash Thou my guilty conscience clear!

Ever when tempted, make me see,
Beneath the olives’ moon pierced shade,
My God, alone, outstretched, and bruised,
And bleeding, on the earth He made;

And make me feel it was my sin,
As though no other sins there were,
That was to Him Who bears the world
A load that He could scarcely bear.