God saw you getting tired,
When a cure was not to be.
So He wrapped his arms around you,
and whispered, 'Come to me'.
You didn't deserve what you went through,
So He gave you rest.
God's garden must be beautiful,
He only takes the best
And when I saw you sleeping,
So peaceful and free from pain
I could not wish you back
To suffer that again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a great poem, Ruth! God also likes to read the best poems, and I know He's reading this one. A ten! !