Mother.

Mother, you nursed me at your breast, And gave of yourself, your very best; Your anxiety, care and watchful nights, When all was still you would turn on the lights To see I was snugly covered in bed Long after my little prayers were said. When I went to school you would help me so much, When my lessons were hard—but your soft touch Would ease it all, for I leaned on your word, It was always the dearest I ever have heard; My heart beats fast, when I think how dear You always were to your children here. Truth and obedience was always your aim, Mother, mother, how fair is your name; How grateful I am I can scarcely say, Though you are gone away, far away, Singing the Miserere, I still see you there, Rocking your child with tenderest care. Mother love is strong, many a sorrow, many a tear; When all else fails, her love is still there; And she’ll go to the end of the earth for you. So noble, so gentle—none kinder and true; Yes, you were my first friend—why should I not love To pray for your soul that is called above.