The Lord walked through His garden
Where He gently touched each flower.
And, as He walked, their perfume
Sent forth a fragrant shower.

They grew there in all shapes and sizes.
Their colors were bright and gay,
As the Lord walked through His garden
Touching each one on His way.

He came to a lovely blossom
Whose radiance shone in the sun,
But the Lord blessed that flower
and passed it.
He searched for a special one.

He sought not the elegant flower,
Most stately, costly, nor grand,
But for the rarest of blossoms
That reflected the glow of His hand.

He looked for the one whose perfume
Was shed in a darkened glade,
Whose color shone and brought brightness
To others who grew in the shade.

Then He found it, a fragile blossom,
No rare beauty, to speak of, nor grace,
But its sweetness extended to others
Bringing joy to that sheltered place.

Yes, the Lord walked through His garden,
Through sunshine and shady glen,
And the flower that we called, "Mother",
He transplanted closer to Him.