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. 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, Though the night around me be falling; But He bids me go; thru the voice of woe, His voice to me is calling.Dio ci benedirà (Salmo 67) İnanırıq Məsihsən ṣạlḥ ạ̉nt ṣạlḥ Kutsal ruh Бог е мое спасение fyk kl ạlfrḥ Moment si doux de la prière Прославление بالعز أمر ạ̹dẖ twạḍʿ sẖʿby
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