In the garden, on His knees,

Jesus prayed among the trees.

For you and me, He was knelt down,

Before He wore that thorny crown.

The Romans came, took Him away,

And now we wait for Judgement Day.

He arose and to Heaven is gone

He will return for the last dawn.

One thing I would like to know:

Did something special start to grow,

In that quiet, darkened dell,

On the spot where His tears fell?