Monday, January 09, 2006

Gathering Flowers for the Master's Bouquet

Traditional
Death is an angel sent down from above, Sent for the buds and the flowers we love.
Truly 'tis so, for in heaven's own way, Each soul is a flower in the Master's bouquet.

Chorus: Gathering flowers for the Master's bouquet, Beautiful flowers that will never decay.
Gathered by angels and carried a way, Forever to bloom in the Master's bouquet.

Loved ones are passing each day and each hour, Passing away as the life of a flower.
But every bud in each blossom some day, Will bloom as a flower in the master's bouquet.

Let us be faithful till life's work is done, Blooming with love till the reapers shall come.
Then we'll be gathered together someday, Transplanted to bloom in the Master's bouquet.

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