by C. Austin Miles
| Intro | D | F#7 | Bm | G | D | A7 | D | A7 |
| D | |
| I | come to the gar-den a-lone, |
| G | D | |
| While the | dew is still on the | ros-es, |
| A7 | D | Bm | E7 | A7 | |
| And the | voice I hear, Fall-ing | on my | ear, The | Son of God dis | -clos-es. |
|
| D | |
| He | speaks, and the sound of his voice |
| G | D | |
| Is so | sweet, the birds hush their | sing-ing, |
| A7 | D | Bm | E7 | A7 | |
| And the | mel-o-dy That he | gave to | me, With | -in my heart is | ring-ing, |
|
| Interlude | D | F#7 | Bm | G | D | A7 | D | A7 |
| D | |
| I'd | stay in the gar-den with him |
| G | D | |
| Tho' the | night a-round me be | fall-ing, |
| A7 | D | E7 | A7 | |
| But he | bids me go, Thro' the | voice of woe, His | voice to me is | calling. |
|
| D | F#7 | Bm | G | D | A7 | G | D | |
| And the | joy we | share as we | tar-ry | there, None | oth-er has | ev-er | kno | wn. |