I remember the children most, Lord,
the ones you called back home
when they were so ill.
You could not heal them here,
their lessons were learned...
And back to your glorious
kingdom they were returned
to bathe in the healing light
of your great and glorious Love.

I remember the children most, Lord,
their smiles lit up lives, their
hearts were soft and sad as ours
when we travelled that road...
Hoping, and praying, along
with all the other parents and children,
that you could somehow
lighten our load...
it became far too heavy
for a child's shoulders.

I remember the children most, Lord,
my sorrow meant so little
in comparison to the crosses
they carried.
Some were heavier than others,
some light, but all were so
very hard to hold...
This illness they had, tried
to drown each soul in the darkness
of forever...where disease
has a normal name -
a pawn in evil's game.
But the light of the Lord lives
on ever in the hearts of
His dear children - no matter
what the age on a mortal plane;
we are all His children -
and we are all loved the same.

© Deborah L. Kelly