Our Children are Not Our Own

"I'll lend you for a little time,
a Child of Mine," He said,
For you to love the while he lives
and mourn when he is dead."

"It may be six or seven years,
or thirty-two or three,
But will you, till I call him back,
take care of him for Me?

"He'll bring his charms to gladden you,
and tho' his stay be brief,
You will have lovely memories
as solace for your grief."

"I cannot promise he will stay,
since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught down here
I want this child to learn."

"I have looked the world-wide over
in my search for teachers true,
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you."

"Now will you give him all your love,
nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come to call
to take him back again?"

"We fancied that we heard them say,
"Dear Lord, Thy will be done!"
For all the joy Thy child will bring,
The risk of grief we run."

"We will shelter him with tenderness,
We will love him while we may,
And for the happiness we have now,
Forever grateful stay."

"But shall the angels call for him
much sooner than we planned,
We shall brave the bitter grief that comes
and try to understand."

Author Unknown

Comments

roocmc said…
Hummie, I gave this poem to the parents of a friend who was killed when he was 17. I saw them three years later, and the mother told me she kept the paper on her refrigerator as a sign of comfort. Thanks for sharing.

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