Favorite Sunday May 12th 2013

My Mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush’d me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kissed press’d?
My Mother

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sang sweet hushaby,
And rock’d me that I should not cry?
My Mother

Who sat and watch’d my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gaz’d upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who dress’d my doll in clothes so gay’
And taught me pretty how to play,
And minded all I had to say?
My Mother

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

And when I see thee hang thy head,
‘Twill be my turn to watch they bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed,
My Mother

For God who lives above the skies,
Would look with vengeance in his eyes,
If I should ever despise,
My Mother

Ann Taylor

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