Memories of Mother

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 14, 1915

My mother's hand is on my brow, Her gentle voice is pleading now, Across the years so marred by sin; What memories of love steal in!

Once more I see that look of pain, The anguish in those eyes again; My heart is sad, for well I know My sin has caused that look of woe.

When others scorned me in their pride, She gently drew me to her side; When all the world had turned away, My mother stood by me that day.

The memories of bygone years, My mother's love, my mother's tears, The thought of all her constant care, Doth bring the answer to her prayer.

I'm coming home, by sin beset, For Jesus loves me even yet; My mother's love brings home to me The greater love of Calvary.

*O mother, when I think of thee, 'Tis but a step to Calvary; Thy gentle hand upon my brow Is leading me to Jesus now.*

— Selected.