The Ancient Gardener

There is an Ancient Gardener,
Who wants my seed to grow.
In fertile ground, he in me found
A space for faith to sow.

And then the Ancient Gardener,
Upon me poured his tears,
He wetted me, and set me free
From death's cold choke of fear.

Then light the Ancient Gardener,
Did send down through the soil,
To warm the earth, and from it birth
A root from seed uncoiled.

Go down, the Ancient Gardner,
Did speak unto my root,
Find water there, and then prepare
To from your grave up sproot.

It's dark here, Ancient Gardner,
The spirit in me spoke.
But blessed me, that within me
A spirit, too, awoke.

Rise up to Ancient Gardner,
The spirit in me said.
Though dark you see, you'll find in he
A path up from the dead.

Though dark and cold and buried,
This seed in dirt, deep down.
It trusted still, the Gardner's will,
And sprung up from the ground.

Then saw the Ancient Gardner,
A sapling that did hear,
The Gardner's voice, and had no choice
But live in trust, not fear

That still this Ancient Gardner
That called up from the ground
A seed, once dead, with leaves now spread
Will still his will unbound,

And give these roots more water,
And give these leaves more light,
To finish what the spirit bought
To raise from death a sprite.

The roots will drink on water,
The leaves will feast on sun,
And bear this fruit upsprung from root
Till Gardner's will is done.

I hear thee, Ancient Gardner,
Send rain down to my roots.
I'll grow for thee, and blessed be,
And for you bear my fruits.