The Mother
Dear Lord, there is so much to do in one brief, busy
day;
The little clothes to wash and iron and mend and
put away;
The littered toys to gather up, the little beds to
make,
And little griefs to soothe away from little hearts
that ache.
The little bodies to be kept, for Thy sake, clean and
sweet,
As temples for the dwelling of the Christly spirit
meet.
And Mary Mother one time knew the blessedness
of this:
The little feet to wash at night, the little lips to
kiss.
Forgive me, Lord, if that I seem neglectful of Thy
work.
It is not that my heart is hard, it is not that I shirk,
But that my heart and hands are full with these,
my little ones___
My little daughters, fair and sweet, my sturdy little
sons.
Once I rejoiced in serving Thee, and only Thee,
alway,
And now sometimes I am so tired I cannot even
pray.
But I draw near at night to Him whose mother knew
the bliss
Of tender, little feet to wash, and little lips to kiss.
___Esther M. Clark
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