A LITTLE SOUL
A lonely bell rings this morn;
The sound is lulled by weeping;
For a small boy who on this day;
Died while he was sleeping.
His mother's cries are heard by God;
As he listens to her prayers;
Please guide hin through the world above;
And give him your loving care.
We ask, Oh God, Why?
Do we feel so very blue;
Why do the young have to die?
Dear God, he was only two.
By
Lester F. Hopper
(QuietEagle)
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