I shall worship in my garden
When the grass is wet with dew,
In a special sunrise service
When the Easter skies are blue.
There will be no massive pulpit
And no richly vested choir;
Just an altar built by nature
And a towering maple spire.
There will be no organ playing
With its loud and vibrant notes;
But a hymn of praise will echo
From a hundred songbird throats.
There I’ll kneel in supplication
In a setting calm and still,
And sip lightly from the chalice
Of a golden daffodil.