We Are a Garden Walled Around

We are a gar­den walled around

Chosen and made pe­cul­iar ground;

A lit­tle spot en­closed by grace

Out of the world’s wide wil­der­ness.

Like trees of myrrh and spice we stand

Planted by God the Fa­ther’s hand;

And all His springs in Si­on flow

To make the young plan­ta­tion grow.

Awake

O

heav’n­ly wind! and come

Blow on this gar­den of per­fume;

Spirit di­vine! des­cend and breathe

A gra­cious gale on plants be­neath.

Make our best spic­es flow abroad

To en­ter­tain our Sav­ior God;

And faith

and love

and joy ap­pear

And ev­ery grace be ac­tive here.

Let my Be­lov­èd come and taste

His plea­sant fruits at His own feast:

I come

My spouse

I come! He cries

With love and plea­sure in His eyes.

Our Lord in­to His gar­den comes

Well pleased to smell our poor per­fumes

And calls us to a feast di­vine

Sweeter than ho­ney

milk

or wine.

Eat of the tree of life

My friends

The bless­ings that My Fa­ther sends;

Your taste shall all My dain­ties prove

And drink abun­dance of My love.

So will we fre­quent of Thy board

And sing the boun­ties of our Lord;

But the rich food on which we live

Demands more praise than tongues can give.