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April Jones: readings at special church service for missing five-year-old | April Jones: readings at special church service for missing five-year-old |
(8 days later) | |
These are two of the readings given at the special service for the missing five-year-old April Jones on Sunday at St Peter's church in Machynlleth. | These are two of the readings given at the special service for the missing five-year-old April Jones on Sunday at St Peter's church in Machynlleth. |
Mum (Polly Peters) by Andrew Fusek Peters | Mum (Polly Peters) by Andrew Fusek Peters |
Mum She's a: Sadness Stealer Cut-knee healer Hug-me-tighter Wrongness righter Gold star carer Chocolate sharer (well, sometimes!) Hamster feeder Bedtime reader Great game player Night fear slayer Treat dispenser Naughty sensor (how come she always knows?) She's my Never glum, Constant chum Second to none We're under her thumb! Mum! | Mum She's a: Sadness Stealer Cut-knee healer Hug-me-tighter Wrongness righter Gold star carer Chocolate sharer (well, sometimes!) Hamster feeder Bedtime reader Great game player Night fear slayer Treat dispenser Naughty sensor (how come she always knows?) She's my Never glum, Constant chum Second to none We're under her thumb! Mum! |
There's A Friend For Little Children | There's A Friend For Little Children |
The words to the hymn were read to the congregation There's a Friend for little children Above the bright blue sky, A Friend who never changes, Whose love will never die; Our earthly friends may fail us, And change with changing years, This Friend is always worthy Of that dear Name He bears. | The words to the hymn were read to the congregation There's a Friend for little children Above the bright blue sky, A Friend who never changes, Whose love will never die; Our earthly friends may fail us, And change with changing years, This Friend is always worthy Of that dear Name He bears. |
There's a rest for little children Above the bright blue sky, Who love the blessed Saviour, And to the Father cry A rest from every turmoil, From sin and sorrow free, Where every little pilgrim Shall rest eternally. | There's a rest for little children Above the bright blue sky, Who love the blessed Saviour, And to the Father cry A rest from every turmoil, From sin and sorrow free, Where every little pilgrim Shall rest eternally. |
There's a home for little children Above the bright blue sky, Where Jesus reigns in glory, A home of peace and joy No home on earth is like it, Nor can with it compare; For everyone is happy Nor could be happier there. | There's a home for little children Above the bright blue sky, Where Jesus reigns in glory, A home of peace and joy No home on earth is like it, Nor can with it compare; For everyone is happy Nor could be happier there. |
There's a crown for little children Above the bright blue sky, And all who look for Jesus Shall wear it by and by; A crown of brightest glory, Which He will then bestow On those who found his favour And loved His Name below. | There's a crown for little children Above the bright blue sky, And all who look for Jesus Shall wear it by and by; A crown of brightest glory, Which He will then bestow On those who found his favour And loved His Name below. |
There's a song for little children Above the bright blue sky, A song that will not weary, Though sung continually; A song which even angels Can never, never sing They know not Christ as Saviour, But worship Him as King. | There's a song for little children Above the bright blue sky, A song that will not weary, Though sung continually; A song which even angels Can never, never sing They know not Christ as Saviour, But worship Him as King. |
There's a robe for little children Above the bright blue sky, And a harp of sweetest music, And palms of victory. All, all above is treasured, And found in Christ alone: O come, dear little children That all may be your own. | There's a robe for little children Above the bright blue sky, And a harp of sweetest music, And palms of victory. All, all above is treasured, And found in Christ alone: O come, dear little children That all may be your own. |
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