Song: My Mother's Prayer in Gospel Hymns No. 5

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Copyright by per. of Ira D. Sankey

Published in Gospel Hymns No. 5 (Copyright 1890, by The Biglow & Main Co. and The John Church Co.)

O'Kane, Tullius C.

Page 81
Format: Mixed words and music
Designation: 78
Verses: 7 verses

Associated Tunes

My Mother's Prayer, #78


Verse 1
As I wandered ’round the homestead,
Many a dear familiar spot
Bro’t within my recollection
Scenes I’d seemingly forgot;
There, the orchard – meadow, yonder –
Here the deep, old fashioned well,
With its old moss-covered bucket,
Sent a thrill no tongue can tell.

Verse 2
Tho’ the house was held by strangers,
All remained the same within;
Just as when a child I rambled
Up and down, and out and in;
To the garrett dark ascending –
Once a source of childish dread –
Peering thro’ the misty cobwebs,
Lo! I saw my trundle bed.

Verse 3
Quick I drew it from the rubbish,
Covered o’er with dust so long;
When, behold, I heard in fancy
Strains of one familiar song,
Often sung by my dear mother
To me in that trundle bed;
“Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!
Holy angels guard thy bed!”

Verse 4
While I listen to the music
Stealing on in gentle strain,
I am carried back to childhood –
I am now a child again:
’Tis the hour of my retiring,
At the dusky eventide;
Near my trundle bed I’m kneeling,
As of yore, by mother’s side.

Verse 5
Hands are on my head so loving,
As they were in childhood’s days;
I, with weary tones, am trying
To repeat the words she says;
’Tis a prayer in language simple
As a mother’s lips can frame:
“Father, Thou who art in heaven,
Hallowed, ever, be Thy name.”

Verse 6
Prayer is over: to my pillow
With a “good-night!” kiss I creep,
Scarcely waking while I whisper,
“Now I lay me down to sleep,”
Then my mother, o’er me bending,
Prays in earnest words, but mild:
“Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father,
Bless, oh bless, my precious child!”

Verse 7
Yet I am but only dreaming:
Ne’er I’ll be a child again;
Many years has that dear mother
In the quiet churchyard lain;
But the mem’ry of her counsels
O’er my path a light has shed,
Daily calling me to heaven,
Even from my trundle bed.