A Child Is Loaned
I'll lend you for a little time a child of mine', He said, 'For you to love the while he lives, and mourn for when he's dead.
He may be six or seven years, or even two or three,
(or in Miguel's case - 6 months and 24 days)
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 cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers trueAnd from the throng that crowd life's lanes I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labour's vain, Nor hate me when I come to call and take him back again?'
I fancied that I heard them say, 'Dear Lord, thy will be done, For all the joys thy child shall bring the risk of grief we'll run. We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we mayAnd for the happiness we've known for ever grateful stay.
But, should the angels call for him much sooner than we'd plannedWe'll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.
Written by Edward A. Guest, published in the Fort Worth Star mid 1930s
He may be six or seven years, or even two or three,
(or in Miguel's case - 6 months and 24 days)
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 cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return, But there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers trueAnd from the throng that crowd life's lanes I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labour's vain, Nor hate me when I come to call and take him back again?'
I fancied that I heard them say, 'Dear Lord, thy will be done, For all the joys thy child shall bring the risk of grief we'll run. We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we mayAnd for the happiness we've known for ever grateful stay.
But, should the angels call for him much sooner than we'd plannedWe'll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.
Written by Edward A. Guest, published in the Fort Worth Star mid 1930s







