Often being a mother seems to be a trial in itself. Mothers experience many difficult times. I put my mum through a few. I'm not sure she ever wanted to get rid of me, but if I were her, the thought would have crossed my mind. Yet, her love was to the end.
I thought I would present a poem today, penned by Ann Taylor (1782-1866). Ann's sister Jane Taylor wrote Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. My Mother is not only a loving tribute to mothers but also pays respect to the 5th Commandment to honour our fathers and mothers, "Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Exodus 20:12. My Mother Who fed me from her gentle breast, And hush’d 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 rock’d me that I should not cry? My Mother. Who sat and watched my infant head, When sleeping in 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 dress’d my doll in clothes so gay, And taught me pretty how to play. And minded all I had to say? 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 care, 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. When thou art feeble, old, and gray, 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 My Mother.
Photo by Jon Tyson
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