Post by Brother Ben on Jun 13, 2008 12:32:22 GMT -5
We never got to hold you.
We never got to hold you, to kiss your little face, To count your little fingers, and feel their soft embrace. We did not get to smell your breath Or rock you off to sleep We never heard your precious voice, No not the slightest peep.
But our Father up in Heaven, Who knows what is the best, Hath chose to bring you home to Him, To rest upon His breast. So though our heart has broken, And we had to say goodbye, I know that you are in Good Hands, You will never have to cry.
One day we're going up there, To approach the Father's throne, Through death or Christ's returning, When Jesus calls us home. We will meet up there in Glory On the streets of purest gold, Upon that day we'll get our turn, That precious face to hold.
Learn to know Christ and him crucified. Learn to sing to him, and say, "Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness, I am your sin. You have taken upon yourself what is mine and given me what is yours. You have become what you were not so that I might become what I was not." --Martin Luther