A PLEA FOR MOTHER by E. B. M.

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 17, 1900

A PLEA FOR MOTHER.

By E. B. M.

E. B. M.

YOUNG friend, you seem merry, and that is quite right; Your laugh rings out cheerful this soft summer night; But list while I ask you a question the while— Did you think, when at home, to give mother a smile?

I have watched you to-night from the place where I stand; You've a kind word for all, ever lending a hand: But stop, let me ask you, before I forget— Did you ask if your mother has her work done yet?

Your cheeks glow with health, and are unmarred by care; No gray locks yet sprinkle your beautiful hair: But let me ask you (I'll whisper it low)— What has made mother's tresses as white as the snow? What has traced those deep furrows so thick on her brow? Was it kind words and actions? Ah! answer me now.

I passed by her window, as hither I came: She was working and weeping. Now where lies the blame? “I can't help you, mother, for I must away; The young folks are coming, and what will they say?” Oh, how the words grieved her, like sharp-pointed dart! Each one seemed to sever a cord at her heart.

Do you stop to ponder what seed you now sow? Or think of the harvest sure from it to grow? Her feet, so work-weary, halt now in the gloom; Erelong they'll be resting all cold in the tomb.

Young friend, I entreat you, before ’t is too late, To go to your mother, and change her sad fate. Give to her the sweet greetings thrown lightly away, And with kind words and actions support her each day. Then a change soon will come o'er that sad, weary face, And in your own bosom sweet peace will have place.

Dear friend, will you listen—once more I entreat— Nor thoughtlessly trample that heart ’neath your feet?