My Baby Girl’s
Cries of Thanksgiving
Did you fly up to Heaven on the wings of angels,
Or did my Lord Jesus carry you Himself?
Somehow I picture you with Jesus, not angels,
As I know He caught you in His arms that night, Himself.
I cannot imagine He would delegate such a role to anyone else,
Not anymore, now that He lives in our hearts, faithful and true.
We don’t meet an angel in prayer, He meets us Himself,
He is so intimate with us in everything we walk through.
I picture it that way: He did not let you hit the ground That Night,
He was there to catch you as you were ever in His sight.
Then He took you into His Heavens where He and His Father
Rejoiced over you, and the angels cried out in worship to God that night.
No matter what, or how you got there, I know you
Walk with Jesus now, and you are surrounded by our loved ones.
I know you still love, and laugh, and play. And I can just see you
With your arms thrown up over your head, singing to God,
Thanking Him for who He is, and for all He’s done
To save you, and love you, and care for you,
Even at the greatest cost of all, the life of His own Son.
We gather with you in spirit, right there by your side,
In humble awe of our Lord, who drew you to His side.
Poem - My Baby Girl's Cries of Thanksgiving - Angie Bennett Prince - 11/13/2011