11 November 1983
29 September 1984
Author unknown
When God calls little children to
dwell with him above,
We mortals sometime question the
wisdom of his Love.
For no heartache compares with the
death of one small child.
Who does so much to make our world
so wonderful and mild.
Perhaps God tires of calling the
aged to his fold,
So he picks a rosebud, before it
can grow old.
God knows how much we need them and
so he takes but few,
To make land of heaven more beautuful
to view.
Believing this is difficult, still
somehow we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows will
always be "good-bye."
So when a little child departs,
we who are left behind,
must realize God loves children and
angels are hard to find.
Author Unknown.
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