How sweet to reflect on the love of a mother,
In whose heart there dwells the sweet love of Christ;
With all her deep interest devoted to others,
A love which to Him can never be priced.
Through His grace I have been privileged to have as my own,
Such a mother, who bore me, her firstborn son;
Through weakness and sickness until I was grown,
She anxiously cared for me as time speeded on.
Early she taught me of Him who once died
For my sins on the cross, there by man crucified;
Each Lord’s Day we children would read from the Word
The wondrous grace and full love of the Lord.
How blessed to recall the worship in our home,
As we all knelt each morning while Father led in prayer,
That each of the children from the truth would ne’er roam,
But grow up in Him and in His full love share.
A large family, and each one demanding her care,
Sent her much to her knees to seek His own mind,
That each child would learn its dependence in prayer,
And in obedience and love, that sweet peace would find.
Since then we have grown, and each has his home,
But the things Mother taught us we’ll never forget;
We have learned from those precepts in the world not to roam,
And thus bring upon us sorrow, sadness, regret.
So, Mother o’ Mine, ’tis to you I would say,
Though the way has been long and trying and rough,
Yet you’ve learned of the love that supports all the way;
You can bow and say, “Thanks, Lord, ’tis all quite enough!”
So, Mother, be strong in the grace that is yours,
For He knows the path that He asks you to walk;
For soon in the glory a blest welcome He assures,
And with Him of all of life’s journey you’ll talk.
H. Campbell (March 1949)