My Mother
Who
fed
me
from
her
gentle
breast,
And
hushed
me
in
her
arms
to
rest,
And
on
my
cheek
sweet
kisses
prest?
My
Mother.
When
sleep
forsook
my
open
eye,
Who
was
it
sung
sweet
hushaby,
And
rocked
me
that
I
should
not
cry?
My
Mother.
Who
sat
and
watched
my
infant
head,
When
sleeping
on
my
cradle
bed,
And
tears
of
sweet
affection
shed?
My
Mother.
When
pain
and
sickness
made
me
cry,
Who
gazed
upon
my
heavy
eye,
And
wept,
for
fear
that
I
should
die?
My
Mother.
Who
dressed
my
doll
in
clothes
so
gay,
And
fondly
taught
me
how
to
play,
And
minded
all
I
had
to
say?
My
Mother.
Who
ran
to
help
me
when
I
fell,
And
would
some
pretty
story
tell,
Or
kiss
the
place
to
make
it
well?
My
Mother.
Who
taught
my
infant
lips
to
pray,
And
love
God's
holy
book
and
day,
And
walk
in
wisdom's
pleasant
way?
My
Mother.
And
can
I
ever
cease
to
be
Affectionate
and
kind
to
thee,
Who
was
so
very
kind
to
me,
My
Mother?
Ah
no!
the
thought
I
cannot
bear,
And
if
God
please
my
life
to
spare,
I
hope
I
shall
reward
thy
car,
My
Mother.
When
thou
art
feeble,
old,
and
grey,
My
healthy
arm
shall
be
thy
stay,
And
I
will
soothe
thy
pains
away,
My
Mother.
And
when
I
see
thee
hang
thy
head,
'Twill
be
my
turn
to
watch
thy
bed,
And
tears
of
sweet
affection
shed,
My
Mother.
For
could
our
Father
in
the
skies
Look
down
with
pleased
or
loving
eyes,
If
ever
I
could
dare
despise
