Mother

Mother "There is no Christian country in which we can deny the influ- ence which a mother exerts over her children. The roughest and hardest wanderer, while he is tossed on the ocean, or while he scorches on the desert sands, recurs in his loneliness and suffering to the smiles which his mother shed over him in his infancy. "Mother is the angel spirit of the home. Her tender yearnings over the cradle of her infant babe; her guardian care of the child and youth; and her bosom companionship with the man of her love and choice, make her the personal center of the interests, the hope and happiness of the home. Her love glows in her sympathies and reigns in all her thoughts and deeds. It never cools or tires, never dreads, never sleeps, but ever glows and burns with increasing ardor upon the altar of home devotion. And even when she is gone to her last rest, the sainted Mother in heaven often sways a mightier influence over her wayward husband or child than when she was present. Her departed spirit still hovers over his affections, over- shadows his path, and draws him by unseen hands towards herself in heaven." Dear Mother mine, Oft in my waking hours I think of thee; And e'en when sleep o'ercomes, thy face I see. In mem'ry sweet thy form I still behold, The voice all tender still will ne'er grow old, Oh, Mother mine. Sainted Mother, Often again thy tender voice I hear, As when, in childhood, real or fancied fear Had gripped my heart; then came assurance calm, Each word well chosen with its healing balm, Fears to smother. My Mother dear, Still thy reproving tones again I hear, As when each childhood folly seemed so near To strew my path; then in thy kindly way, Thy words would strengthen for another day, Reprove and cheer. And more than all, Again I hear thy blessings on my head, As when beside thy knee my prayers were said, Or as I slept thy heart would ever pray, For help to guide my feet in wisdom's way, Lest sin enthrall. Angel Mother, Now thou art gone; thy face no more I see, And yet I feel thou still dost cherish me; When life is o'er, still may each prayer divine, With blest assuring cheer my thoughts incline, Mother, to thee. La Belle Idaho P. A. Waters