Prayer in a Garden
I thank Thee, Lord, that I can see
This proof of immortality;
That I can hear in April rain,
The stir of fragile leaves again.
That I can feel the wind that sweeps
Where summer fruit now lightly sleeps
And smell the spring upon my spade
Where warm black earth is freshly laid
I thank Thee, Lord, that here today
Death's ugly stone is rolled away
And now beside the empty tomb
I kneel to touch the first frail bloom.