I Come To The Garden Alone

I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses.

(Refrain) :
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing;
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

I'd stay in the garden with Him
Tho' the night around me be falling;
But He bids me go; thro' the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling.
 — C. Austin Miles (1912)

In a quiet town in New Jersey, a former pharmacist named C. Austin Miles traded his profession for a calling—writing gospel songs that would speak to weary souls. He penned hundreds, but one would echo far beyond the rest.

One chilly day in March 1912, Miles stepped into a dim, windowless room where he kept both his photographic equipment and a small organ. There, he opened his Bible to John 20, the story of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb.

As he read, the room seemed to fade.

In its place, he found himself standing at the edge of a garden. He watched Mary approach, her grief heavy, her tears falling. Then came the moment—her encounter with the risen Christ, mistaken at first for a gardener, until recognition broke through her sorrow and she cried, “Rabboni!”

The vision gripped him. When it passed, Miles sat trembling, Bible in hand, overcome by what he had seen.

Before the feeling could fade, he began to write.

The words came swiftly, just as they remain today. That same evening, he composed the melody—simple, tender, and full of quiet hope.

The hymn soon traveled far beyond that small room, carried through revival meetings and into churches across the nation. Generations would come to cherish it, not for grandeur, but for its gentle promise: that Christ still meets His people in the garden, walking and speaking with them, one soul at a time.