A MOTHER'S love,—-how sweet the name!
What is a mother's love?
A noble, pure, and tender flame,
Enkindled from above,
To bless a heart of earthly mold;
The warmest love that can grow cold,-
This is a mother's love.
To bring a helpless babe to light;
Then, while it lies forlorn,
To gaze upon that dearest sight,
And feel herself new born,
In its existence lose her own,
And live and breathe in it alone;
This is a mother's love.
To mark its growth from day to day,
Its opening charms admire,
Catch from its eye the earliest ray
Of intellectual fire:
To smile and listen while it talks,
And lend a finger when it walks;
This is a mother's love.
Blest infant! whom his mother taught
Early to seek the Lord,
And poured upon his dawning thought
The day-spring of the Word;
This was the lesson to her son-
Time is eternity begun;
Behold that mother's love.
Blest mother! who in wisdom's path,
By her own parent trod,
Thus taught her son to flee the wrath,
And know the fear, of God;
Ah, youth! like him enjoy your prime;
Begin eternity in time,
Taught by that mother's love.
That mother's love!-how sweet the name!
What was that mother's love?
That noblest, purest, tenderest flame,
That kindles from above,
Within a heart of earthly mold,
As much of heaven as heart can hold,
or through eternity grows cold,-
This was a mother's love.
JAMES MONTGOMERY.