There are no accidents with God,
And God makes no mistakes.
He gives in love, He takes in love, He gives before He takes.
He gives, and we accept His gifts,
And hold them as our own,
But does our love for them forget
They are not ours alone?
Our loved ones are His choicest gifts,
To bring us comfort here,
But as our love goes out to them,
May we His name revere.
We hold them here in trust for Him,
Our will should blend with His,
And when He wants His own again,
We should accede to this.
For they are ours until He sees
Withholding them is best,
And as we bow unto His will,
Our lives in Him are blest.
His tender love could never cause
His child a needless tear,
Hereafter we shall understand
What mystifies us here.
(note: I cannot find out who wrote this poem or when it was written. I would love to credit the author if anyone can give me that information.)
