HIS MOTHER'S SONGS

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 7, 1898

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 24, No. 14.

HIS MOTHER'S SONGS.

BENEATH the hot midsummer sun The men had marched all day; And now beside a rippling stream Upon the grass they lay.

Tiring of games and idle jests, As swept the hours along, They called to one who mused apart, “Come, friend, give us a song.”

“I fear I can not please,” he said; “The only songs I know Are those my mother used to sing For me long years ago.”

“Sing one of those,” a rough voice cried, “There’s none but true men here; To every mother’s son of us A mother’s songs are dear.”

Then sweetly rose the singer’s voice Amid unwonted calm, *“Am I a soldier of the cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own His cause?”* The very stream was stilled, And hearts that never throbbed with fear With tender thoughts were filled.

Ended the song; the singer said, As to his feet he rose, “Thanks to you all, my friends. Good-night. God grant us sweet repose.”

—Anon.