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IN MEMORIAM OF MOTHER.
In memoriam of Mrs. Annie M. Henderson, who departed this life for the bliss of heaven, one year ago, October, 22d, 1892.
I miss thee, my mother, thy image is still
The deepest impressed on my heart;
And the tablet so faithful in death must be chill,
Ere a line of that image depart.
The deepest impressed on my heart;
And the tablet so faithful in death must be chill,
Ere a line of that image depart.
Thou wert torn from our side when we needed thee most,
When our reason could measure thy worth,
When we knew but too well that the image we'd lost,
Could never be replaced upon earth.
When our reason could measure thy worth,
When we knew but too well that the image we'd lost,
Could never be replaced upon earth.
I miss thee, my mother. Oh, when do I not?
Though I know 'twas the wisdom of heaven,
That the deepest shade fell on my sinned spot,
When that tide of devotion was riven.
Though I know 'twas the wisdom of heaven,
That the deepest shade fell on my sinned spot,
When that tide of devotion was riven.
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For when thou wert with me, my soul was below—
I was chained to the world I then trod;
My affections, my thoughts, were all earth-bound,
But now they have followed thy spirit to God.
I was chained to the world I then trod;
My affections, my thoughts, were all earth-bound,
But now they have followed thy spirit to God.
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