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My Mothers Bible


This book is all thatís left me now!
Tears will unbidden start!
With faltíring lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart.
For many generations passed,
Here is our famíly tree!
My motherís hands this Bible clasped,
She dying gave it me.

Ah, well do I remember those
Whose names these records bear!
Who round the hearthstone used to close,
After the evening prayer;
And speak of what this volume said,
In tones my heart would thrill:
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still.

My father read this holy book
To brothers, sisters dear!
How calm was my poor motherís look,
Who leaned Godís Word to hear!
Her angel face! I see it yet!
What thronging memíries come!
Again that little group is met
Within these halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew!
Thy constancy Iíve tried!
When all were false I found Thee true,
My Counselor and Guide.
The mines of earth no treasures give,
From me this book could buy,
For teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.

         

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