Heaven's Nursery
There's a nursery in Heaven, of that I am sure.
Where the babies can feel all at home and secure.
With the little cribs standing row after row,
The coverlets shining white as the snow.
A garden that's filled with the loveliest toys,
And no one complains of the little ones noise.
The angels who tend them by God's loving grace,
Look exactly to each as his own mother's face.
The voices they hear calling softly and low,
Seem the same loving tones that they first learned to know.
The arms that enfold them with gentle caress
Seem to be the dear ones that did cherish and bless.
There safe in His presence they happily play,
For danger can't shadow the immortal day;
And Bethlehem's Babe joins their innocent mirth
Just as He did when a child on Earth.
And she who once cherished God's Son on her knee,
Adds a mother's fond smile to the joys they will see.
And even the hearts left desolate here,
Are consoled by the thought of their darlings up there!
--Geraldine Sapp
