Mother, Home, And Heaven

The words of sweetest meaning
To erring mortal given
Of purest, deepest feeling
Are "Mother, Home and Heaven!"
The magic name of "Mother"
Revives in every heart
The feeling first awakened
Of that dear parent's part.
And cold must be that bosom,
Devoid of love and soul
That is not moved to goodness
By a "Mother's" mild control.

With "Home" we all remember
Some vision of the past
A May-day in the morning,
Too beautiful to last,
When flowers of lowly beauty
Beguiled our youth to tears,
Conceling 'mid the roses,
The thorns of riper years,
Yet when the past is challenged,
Wherever we may roam,
The word that is most eloquent,
Is that dear one of "Home."

The Christian to the future
His earnest gaze extends
While in the brightened distance
The bow of promise bends,
His weary foot has trodden
The devious paths below,
But now the glorious "Heaven"
Whose light is all aglow.
His cares are nearly over,
His troubles soon will cease,
For smiles of resignation
Assures him of his peace.

Of the three words of beauty,
I know not which is best;
Two speak of love and happiness,
And one of future rest.
I feel that "Heaven" is dearest,
And yet I cannot tell,
For "Mother" fills the heart with love,
And "Home" has charm as well.
Then let these three united be,
Nor shall the tie be riven,
For words of thrilling melody,
are "Mother, Home and Heaven."