Your little life

Was created, designed and knit together

By the greatest Craftsman.

It was done lovingly,

Attention was paid to the very last detail,

Without a doubt

You were perfect in His eyes.

But your breaths were numbered

And the hours were few,

Before you filled your lungs

For the very last time.

My questions unanswered

And the sadness in this heart unfamiliar.

I did not know your face

And it was not me who sat beside you,

Patiently waiting, hoping,

Lord, take him quickly

Or heal him now.

The voice of the sweetest girl I know

Sang over you,

Of a love both fierce and gentle.

Your mother loved you.

Her first child,

A boy.

And she grieves her loss,

The loss of being able to hold you,

To be loved by you

To touch you, feeling your warmth on her skin.

Her pain is great,

But her Creator is much more.

I pray your mum finds comfort

And the Love she longs for

In the Saviour of the world.

Let earth and heaven combine,

angels and men agree,

to praise in songs divine

the incarnate deity,

our God contracted to a span,

incomprehensibly made man.

Unsearchable the love

that has the Saviour brought;

the grace is far above

or man or angel's thought:

enough for us that God, we know,

our God, is manifest below.

He deigns in flesh to appear,

widest extremes to join;

to bring our vileness near

and make us all divine:

and we the life of God shall know,

for God is manifest below.

Made perfect first in love,

and sanctified by grace,

we shall from earth remove,

and see his glorious face:

then shall his love be fully showed,

and man shall then be lost in God.

Charles Wesley