p. 10 | Mother's Seventieth Birthday by M. P. Cady

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 10, 1910

Mother's Seventieth Birthday

By M. P. Cady

M. P. CADY, M. D.

To-DAY we meet to celebrate the day Which marks the seventieth mile-stone of the road Of life for you, our mother, most beloved. How much of joy or sadness, grief or pain, Has been your portion we can never know; For deepest thoughts our cherished treasures are, And in ourselves we live a deeper life, Incomprehensible to e'en our dearest friend, Most loved, who shares in all the common trove Of usual good or ill which haps our lot.

Threescore and ten,—how kind the Master-hand Has held the course through waters all unknown. Through childhood's days the wimpling wavelets rocked The dancing boat upon the sunny stream; In youth the widening waters reached the sea; In womanhood the storms have burst amain In fiercest fury on thy craft. But still The Watchful Eye hath seen, and trimmed the sail So that each storm hath borne thee on the way That leads toward the port and perfect day.

The passing years, what changes they have brought To you, and those who years agone met in Our happy home! Our every joy was yours; Our sorrows more. Severe your toil and care. Alas, the severed ties! Beneath the sod, In sleep serene, our honored father lies; And some of those who claimed a mother's care Are gone; and scattered far are those who live. No more is “home” a home, indeed: its halls Re-echo footfalls new and voices strange.

Let us not grieve, for chance and change must come. Each bitter cup still leaves untasted sweet. He who has brought us to this happy hour Is changeless, and will still provide. Like him, then bear the good or ill. His love Is constant, and his mercies sure. Whate'er Befall, he will sustain; and when, At last, life's voyage is o'er, eternal life, With all the loved, will be thy happy meed, And mortal life shall meet its greater day.

Birnamwood, Wis.