When I come round to call. . . .

When I come round to call. . . .

I'll lend you for a little time
A child of mine, God said,
for you to love the while he lives,
and mourn for when he's dead.

It may be six or seven weeks,
or thirty years, or three
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care of him for me?

He'll bring his charm to gladden you
and should his stay be brief,
You'll have his lovely memories,
as solace for your grief.

I can not promise he will stay
, since all from Earth return,
but there are lessons taught down "there"
I want this child to learn.

I looked the world over
in my search for people true,
and from the throngs who crowd life's way,
I have selected you.

Now will you give him all your love,
Not think the labor in vain,
Nor hate Me when I call around
to take him back again?

Shelter him with tenderness,
love him while we may,
and for the happiness you have known
forever shall he stay.

But when I come "round to call for him
much sooner than you had planned"
I fancy that you will say,
Dear Lord, forgive this grief,
and help us understand.