MY MOTHER

I knew her in her prime,

Before the seal of Time

Was graven on her brow,

As Age hath graved it now:

When radiant Youth was just subdued

To yield to gracious womanhood.

And as an inland lake

Lies tranquil mid the hills,

Unruffled by the storms that break

Beyond, and mirrors Heaven;

So, to her spirit, freed from ills,

A blessed calm was given.

Encircled by War's strife

Peace ruled her life.

Christ's teachings were her constant guide,

And naught beside,

Christ's Death and Passion were her plea —

None needed she;

For that amid earth's fiercest strife

Her life was patterned on His life.

Now when her eyes grow dim

She lives so close to Him,

The radiance of His smile

Envelops her the while.

As when the Prophet's figure shone

With light reflected from the Throne,

So, ever in her face

Shines Heaven's divinest grace.

Her soul is fresh and mild

As is a little child.

And as the fleshly tenement

With age grows worn and bent,

Her Spirit's unabated youth

Is aye to me

The mind-compelling truth

Of Immortality.

Her voice is, as it were,

A silver dulcimer,

Tuned like the seraph's lays

Eternally to praise.

The blessings of Christ's chosen friends

Are doubly hers, whose mind,

To charity inclined,

No selfish ends

Have ever for an instant moved:

Who served like Martha

And like Mary loved.