Mother

Do you miss your mother?  Did she bandage your cuts, wipe your tears, tell you stories, and kiss you goodnight?  Did she bring you cups of tea, teach you how to cook, or--most important of all--teach you how to find saving faith in Jesus Christ?  If she has gone on ahead to her eternal home, and you can't kiss her and thank her this Mother's Day, here is a poem of tribute -- and of Hope.

Write and tell me if it touches you.  It was written by my great grandmother Mary Cox (1843-1931), in memory of her mother, Sarah Jane Earhart (1817-1870).

Mother

Friends may depart and foes arise,

Christ’s love is just the same;

He never, never will forsake,

Those who are trusting in His name.

Oh! What a blessed hope is ours,

What meditation sweet,

To know that we will meet again, Mother

When life’s journey is complete.

Our thoughts are turning backward,

To childhood’s winsome years,

When we always ran to Mother,

With all our joys and fears.

We would go to her when tired,

To get the needed rest;

We would go to her when wounded,

To get a fond caress.

And when we were sick or troubled,

We would go to her for aid;

And though it would be dark around,

We never felt afraid.

As backward on the wings of time,

We fly to her embrace;

We see her face all bright to shine,

Of tears there is no trace.

Written in love by

Mary W. Cox

1843-1931