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I recall one Sunday morning, on the way to Sunday school
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The sun was brightly shining down and the ([A]) morning air was cool
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Me and brother saw some flowers, growing by the parson?s gate
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Mama said don?t pick the flowers boys, they?re not for us to take
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Then a voice from in the garden, made us turn around and stare
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We saw an old, old lady, ([A]) sittin? in a rocking chair
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And when she got up to come our way, we knew she couldn?t see
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She said let them pick the flowers, that?s their way of lovin? me
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Let the children pick the flowers, let them see the beauty there
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Let them study God?s cre- -ations, that were ([A]) grown with love and care
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Let the children pick the flowers, that?s what God?s own words would be
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* Let the little one?s pick the flowers, that?s their way of lovin? me
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Have you ever really wondered, what are flowers growing for
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Maybe God made them for children, just to ([A]) pick forever more
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For as long as Roses bramble, and they need the morning dew
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Let the children pick the flowers, that?s their way of lovin? you
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Let the children pick the flowers, that?s what God?s own words would be
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Let the little one?s pick the flowers, that?s their way of lovin? me
