The Gardener

A poem for the one who tends to God's daughters

Holly’s Garden

He calls me the gardener
I tend to His gardens
He’s trained me to care and to nurture
To bring life to His prized roses
They’ve been dead‐like and dormant
During the cold season of winter
 
A sight of disarray at first
Because they’ve been neglected
Lifeless and parched, I get busy to work
I prune and feed and weed
To bring the flowers back to life
He’s given me the tools I need
 
I’m sure to add the miracle‐grow
The essential element of Love
I place them in the light of the Son
Add the vital water of the Spirit
These are the key elements I must use
To seeing His gardens flourish
 
At times my job can be hard
Sometimes downright painful
I must dig out the bitter roots
Put to death the pestilence
Get rid of the things that deter
And keep the rose from brilliance

I care that each one grow ‘n mature
Open into full blossom
To release her beautiful fragrance
And bring glory to her Maker
This is her destiny you know
Beauty instead of ashes