When Mary thro’ the garden went,
There was no sound of any bird,
And yet, because the night was spent,
The little grasses lightly stirred,
The flowers awoke, the lilies heard.
When Mary thro’ the garden went,
The dew lay still on flower and grass,
The waving palms above her sent
Their fragrance out as she did pass,
No light upon the branches was.
When Mary thro’ the garden went,
Her eyes, for weeping long, were dim,
The grass beneath her footsteps bent,
The solemn lilies, white and slim,
These also stood and wept for Him.
When Mary thro’ the garden went,
She sought, within the garden ground,
One for whom her heart was rent,
One Who for her sake was bound,
One Who sought and she was found.
