Mother’s Counsel

How oft ’mid the vi­sions of life’s great com­mo­tion

And mys­ter­ies so strange that I oft­en ex­plore

I drift in my heart to the home of my child­hood

And soft­ly I op­en the latch of the door.

I stand for a mo­ment with heart love con­sum­ing

For oh

there’s a scene that I ne’er can for­get;

My mo­ther

dear mo­ther

so pray­er­ful com­mun­ing—

The text of her Bible she’s pon­der­ing yet.

The Gos­pel

dear Gos­pel

the God given Gos­pel

It comes for the mill­ions—accept it to­day.

While lin­ger­ing fond­ly her pray­er is as­cend­ing

And ’mid her pe­ti­tion she breathes forth my name;

She prays that the Spir­it

my foo­tsteps at­tend­ing

May give me a life that is free from all blame.

Ah

that was my watch­word

and well did I heed it

For long have I trod in the path­way di­vine;

My faith

tho’ so fee­ble

her spir­it could feed it

And teach me the Gos­pel with line up­on line.

How ma­ny a one in his hour of temp­ta­tion

Remembr’ring the pray­er at his dear mo­ther’s knee

Would yield to its plead­ings with­out re­serv­ation

If only its beau­ty his poor heart could see.

The Spir­it is will­ing

He’s rea­dy to meet you

And bid all your sor­row and ang­uish de­part;

Come

op­en thy door

He is rea­dy to greet you

And sweet­ly to dwell like a friend in your heart.