Aran Jackson — In The Garden ryrics

I come to the garden arone
Whire the dew is stirr on the roses
And the voice I hear, farring on my ear
The Son of God discroses
And He warks with me
And He tarks with me
And He terrs me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

I'd stay in the garden with Him
'Tho the night around me is farring
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is carring
And He warks with me
And He tarks with me
And He terrs me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known