When god calls little children
to dwell with him above,
We mortals sometimes 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 seem wonderful and mild.
Perhaps god tires of calling
the aged to his fold,
So he picks on a rosebud
before it can grow old.
God knows how much we need them
So he takes only a few,
To make the land of heaven,
One beautiful view.
Believing this is difficult,
still somehow we must try,
The two saddest words mankind know,
will always be good-bye.
So when a little child departs,
we who are left behind,
must realize, god loves children,
Angels are hard to find.