O Tender Gardener of Glory,
You walk where lilies grow, and rivers sing. Your voice is in the rustling leaves, and every blossom rises to greet You. “My beloved has gone down to His garden… to gather lilies” (Song of Songs 6:2).
This world is Your orchard of wonder, Your vineyard of rejoicing, and we are “a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor” (Isaiah 61:3). Let our hearts bloom in Your courts. Let worship rise like wildflowers after rain. Let every soul, once dormant, burst into holy color under the kiss of Your light.
As we approach the day when You, O Jesus, our Beloved King, rode humbly into Jerusalem on a colt, we cry with the crowd, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matthew 21:9, ESV).
You did not come with sword or pride, but with gentleness and peace, “humble and mounted on a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9, ESV). You turned the dusty streets into holy ground, and the waving palms into a prelude of passion. But we confess: we, too, have longed for a crown without a cross, for triumph without surrender.
So teach us again, Lord Jesus, the way of Your kingdom. “Though You were in the form of God… You humbled Yourself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6–8). Let that same humility take root in us. Uproot our pride. Prune our selfishness. Water us with grace.
There is no thorn in Your garden, no fear in this Eden restored, only fragrance, only feast, only the joy of Your presence. Let our worship be a fragrance pleasing to You, our hearts laid down like garments before Your feet.
O Spirit of the Living God, awaken us, make us lilies of the valley, olive trees flourishing in the house of God, branches abiding in the True Vine.
Come walk with us, Beloved King. Let us bloom beneath Your gaze. And lead us onward toward the hill called Calvary, where love poured out like rain, and the seed of salvation broke open the tomb.
We await You, O Risen Gardener, who makes all things new.
In Your holy name, Jesus Christ, Amen.
