God saw you getting tired
And a cure was not to be
So he put His arms around you
And whispered "Come to me."
With tearful eyes we watched you
As you slowly slipped away
And though we loved you dearly
We couldn't make you stay.
Your golden heart stopped beating
Your tired hands put to rest
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.
by Frances and Kathleen Coelho
Here is an adaption of the poem by one of our readers;
To God's Garden
by Peter Harris
An adaptation of God Saw You Getting Tired:
You strove to live alone,
To talk and walk around,
But as the illness was relentless,
You were forced to give-up ground.
God saw you getting tired,
When a cure was not to be.
So He wrapped his arms around you,
and whispered, "Come to me."
And when I saw you sleeping,
So peaceful and free from pain
I could not wish you back,
To suffer that again.
You did not deserve to suffer more
So He set you down to rest.
To God's garden you are surely bound,
So to sit with all the best.
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