King Jesus Hath a Garden Songtext
von John Rutter
King Jesus Hath a Garden Songtext
King Jesus hath a garden, full of divers flowers,
Where I go culling posies gay, all times and hours.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The Lily, white in blossom there, is Chastity:
The Violet, with sweet perfume, Humanity.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The bonny Damask-rose is known as Patience:
The blithe and thrifty Marygold, Obedience.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The Crown Imperial bloometh too in yonder place,
′Tis Charity, of stock divine, the flower of grace.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Yet, 'mid the brave, the bravest prize of all may claim
The Star of Bethlem-Jesus-bless′d be his Name!
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Ah! Jesu Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete,
Make thou my heart thy garden-plot, fair, trim and neat. There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Where I go culling posies gay, all times and hours.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The Lily, white in blossom there, is Chastity:
The Violet, with sweet perfume, Humanity.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The bonny Damask-rose is known as Patience:
The blithe and thrifty Marygold, Obedience.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
The Crown Imperial bloometh too in yonder place,
′Tis Charity, of stock divine, the flower of grace.
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Yet, 'mid the brave, the bravest prize of all may claim
The Star of Bethlem-Jesus-bless′d be his Name!
There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Ah! Jesu Lord, my heal and weal, my bliss complete,
Make thou my heart thy garden-plot, fair, trim and neat. There naught is heard but Paradise bird,
Harp, dulcimer, lute,
With cymbal, trump and tymbal,
And the tender, soothing flute.
Writer(s): Dp, Michael Bojesen, George Ratcliffe Woodward Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com