August 19, 1928 – May 23, 2017
The Garden That I Love ⃰
The Garden that I love is full of Light:
It lies upon the sloping of a hill,
Where Dawn first stirs the curtains of the Night,
And the breeze whispers when the Noon is still.
The Garden that I love is full of Peace;
The voices of the vale are faint and far,
The busy murmurs of the highway cease,
And silently, at evening, comes the Star.
The Garden that I love is full of Dreams;
Visions of joy gone by, and bliss that waits,
Beyond the furthest verge of sunset gleams,
With the wide opening of the Golden Gates.
The Garden that I love is full of Rest;
God’s own fair Acre, where His dear ones lie,
In the safe shelter of the kind earth’s breast,
Waiting His Easter dawning up the sky.
There may I rest, asleep with them awhile,
There may I wake, with them, that glorious Day,
When, in the sunshine of the Master’s smile,
Sorrow and sighing shall be swept away!
⃰ Taken from the Memorial Service for Karl Reimlinger,
George’s father, on April 30th, 1956,
by Florence L. Henderson.