A Mother’s Gift and Prayers

When in future distant years
Thou shalt look upon this page;
Through the crystal vale of tears
That bedim our eyes with age:
Think it was a mother’s hand,
Though her smiles no more thou’lt see,
Pointing to that Better Land,
Gave this sacred gift to thee.
Nor alone in hours of woe
Be its priceless treasures sought;
Though thy cup with joys o’erflow
Count them in compare as naught;
So remembering in thy youth
Him whose Spirits lights each page,
Thou shalt ever prove in truth
He will not forget thine age.
Anon.