THE HYMNS THAT MOTHER SUNG.
THROUGHOUT the changing scenes of life,
That shadowed vale of smiles and tears,
Where all is lost within the mist
That hides the bygone years,
Some strains there are that linger still,
And many hearts no longer young
Are thrilled with joy again to hear
The hymns that mother sung. We'd used to gather at the hearth
When darkness overcame the day,
And dreamily, as children will,
We'd watch the shadows play;
And sitting by the glowing fire,
As to and fro the kettle swung,
We learned the songs we've always loved—
The hymns that mother sung. We seem to hear again her voice,
So long remembered, clear and sweet
As when, in days of long ago,
We sat at mother's feet;
And gazing upward on the wall,
Where dearest father's picture hung,
We thought he smiled; for he, too, loved
The hymns that mother sung. On many snowy winter nights,
When all without was cold and drear,
We've clustered close around her chair
In happiness and cheer;
No more for us the glowing fire,
No more the cricket's chirping tongue,
And nevermore on earth we'll hear
The hymns that mother sung. To them we owe our happy homes.
Praise be to God, who reigns above,
For keeping ever bright and clear
The lessons learned in love,
Outliving sorrow, bearing hope,
The dear old songs have always clung,
And never can the heart forget
The hymns that mother sung.