But when I go
To my lone bed, I find no mother there;
And weeping kneel, to say the prayer she taught;
Or when I read the Bible that she loved,
Or to her vacant seat at church draw near,
And think of her, a voice is in my heart,
Bidding me early seek my God, and love
My Blessed Saviour; and that voice is her’s,
I know it is, because these were the words
She used to speak so tenderly, with tears,