Mother
Early in the morning,
Up as soon as light,
Overseeing breakfast,
Putting all things right;
Dressing little children,
Hearing lessons said,
Washing baby faces,
Toasting father’s bread.
After breakfast, reading,
Holding one at prayers;
Putting up the dinners,
Mending little tears:
Good-bye, kissing children,
Sending off to school;
With a prayer and blessing,
Mother’s heart is full.
Washing up the dishes,
Sweeping carpets clean,
Doing up the chamber-work,
Sewing on machine.
Baby lies a-crying,
Rubbing little eyes;
Mother leaves her sewing
To sing lullabies.
Cutting little garments,
Trimming children’s hats,
Plying thread and needle
With neighbours as she chats.
Hearing little footsteps
Running through the hall,
Telling school is over,
As mother’s name they call.
Talking with her children
All about the school,
As they sit beside her,
Each on their little stool;
Telling them the story
Of Jesus and His love,
Of Daniel and the lions,
Of Noah and the dove.
With calm and earnest tones,
She speaks of God and heaven,
And tells how Jesus died
That sin might be forgiven.
Seeing about supper,
Lighting up the room,
Making house look cheerful,
Expecting father home.
Her worries and her trials
She hides within her breast,
With others shares the sunshine,
To Jesus tells the rest.
As the children go to bed
She hears each little prayer,
Entrusts them to her Saviour,
And, kissing, leaves them there.
Resting in the kitchen,
Her daily labour done,
Her Bible placed before her,
She and her God alone;
She takes each care and sorrow,
And bends beneath the throne,
With that trusting, hopeful heart
Which Jesus loves to own.
~ From the Children’s Friend 1880