If I walked with you in the Garden  

If I walked with you in the garden,

Like Adam or Ezekiel, or your friend

Enoch, I would not ask you why.

Instead I’d thank you for the

World you made, for the stars

In the skies, the birds of the

Air, the fish of the sea, and all

The creatures that abound there.

And I’d ask your help to preserve

These things, so that we don’t

Destroy in one selfish moment

What took you six days to build.

If I walked with you in the garden,

I’d ask that you make man’s

Burden light enough to bear;

That you give us strength to accept

What we must, and courage to do

What must be done.  I’d ask that

You give us wisdom, so that we

Could be as merciful to one

Another, as you are to us.

I’d ask that you grant us tolerance

So that we stop the senseless

Bloodshed that masquerades

As belief in you.

If I walked with you in the garden,

I’d show you my heart, and ask

That you repair it, so that

I could always do what you require.

I’d ask for a song to sing so

That men might remember their

True calling, and not the vain

Lusting after things to make

Them forget.

And when at last my time draws near,

I hope that I have done enough with

What I’ve been given, that I be

Allowed to walk with you in the garden.