For no heartache can compare
with the death of one small child,
who does do much to make this world
seem so wonderful and mild.

Perhaps God tires of calling
the aged to his fold,
And so he picks a rosebud before it can grow.

God knows how much we love them
so he picks but a few,
To make the land of Heaven
more beautiful to view. Believing this is difficult,
Still somehow we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows is goodbye.

And so when little ones depart,
we who are left behind must realize,
How much God loves little children
and Angels are hard to find.

God took an angle that I born,
I questioned him why;
It was so hard to let him go;
All I could do was cry.
In my heart I know,
My little one had to depart
To be one of God's angels
Even though, it broke my heart