(Verse 1)The morning sun rose up across the silent vale, But did not bring the warmth of Eden’s ancient tale. A heavy sweat hung thick upon the humid air, And slicked the skin of Ron before his work was there. He stood beside the edge of fields he had to sow, With calloused hands where painful fractures grow. (Verse 2)Beside him on the bench, his faithful partner sat, Dear Mara held their babe and smoothed her knitted hat. The memory of birth was fresh with deep despair, And quiet fear was lingering upon the air. For out into the crops his weary footsteps led, To face the stubborn thorns and earn their daily bread. (Chorus)Oh, we carry the scars of the garden’s mistake, In the sweat of our brow and the bread that we bake. We are fighting the dirt, we are turning the sod, And grieving the choices that let down our God. For the sinless Savior would die on the cross, To ransom our ruin and rescue our loss! (Verse 3)At dusk a neighbor came to claim a boundary line, And Ron felt an ounce of anger that clouded his mind. The friction deep inside, the words of bitter strife, Recalled the ancient day when Adam blamed his wife. The default state of trust was shattered by the fall And human hearts were prone to envy worst of all. (Chorus)Oh, we carry the scars of the garden’s mistake, In the sweat of our brow and the bread that we bake. We are fighting the dirt, we are turning the sod, And grieving the choices that let down our God. For the sinless Savior would die on the cross, To ransom our ruin and rescue our loss! (Outro)The fire crackled low as shadows started creeping, Yet Ron held his wife beneath the starlit sky, And knew the Savior's grace would never truly die.
