Where Mother Is

Old-fashioned flowers, with fragrance sweet,

Bloom where mother is;

Life's a psalm—a song replete
With joy—where mother is.

There all woes and sorrows cease;
Naught but rest and heavenly peace
Dwells where mother is.

The jostling crowd, the wearing din,
Are not where mother is;

The flaunting rags of shame and sin
Reach not where mother is.

Heart-sick, brain-tired, nerve-racked soul,
Before thy tear-dimmed eyes a goal
Exists where mother is.

All grief, and doubt, and unbelief
Flee where mother is;

Hope, and faith, and sweet relief,
Come where mother is.

Mother, mother! name most sweet,

Heaven guide my weary feet

Home, where mother is.

From a 19th century magazine

Happy Mother's Day!