A Child in the Garden
Small hands reach up as if to touch the sky;
she twirls, engulfed within the garden flowers.
God-given hues have held her eyes for hours;
pretending, she becomes a butterfly.
New buds will blossom here to glorify
the Lord, who watches from grand Heavens' bower,
and manna will be sent—sunshine and showers,
a plan both she and flowers will espy.
Small hands reach high where hollyhocks were sown;
she twirls, and painted flowers become swirled.
The seeds of youth are all that she has known—
small buds as though her life will come unfurled,
as soon, all faithful flowers become grown;
God loves the little children of the world.
Small hands reach up as if to touch the sky;
she twirls, engulfed within the garden flowers.
God-given hues have held her eyes for hours;
pretending, she becomes a butterfly.
New buds will blossom here to glorify
the Lord, who watches from grand Heavens' bower,
and manna will be sent—sunshine and showers,
a plan both she and flowers will espy.
Small hands reach high where hollyhocks were sown;
she twirls, and painted flowers become swirled.
The seeds of youth are all that she has known—
small buds as though her life will come unfurled,
as soon, all faithful flowers become grown;
God loves the little children of the world.