When God calls little children to dwell with him above,We mortals sometimes question
the wisdom of his love
Fore no heartache compares with
the death of one small child
Who does so much to make our world,
seem wonderful and mild
Perhaps God is tired of calling
the aged to his fold,
So he picks a rosebud,
before she can grow old.
God knows how much we need them,
and so he takes but a few
To make the land of Heaven
more beautiful to view.
Believing is difficult, still we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows will always be "Goodbye".
So when a little one departs,
we who are left behind must realize,
God loves children, Angels are so hard to find.
