With thee may I behold th’ eternal face.
William Pulling.
A mother’s love
Is an undying feeling. Earth may chill
And sever other sympathies, and prove
How weak all human bonds are; it may kill
Friendships, and crush hearts with them—but the thrill
Of the maternal breast must ever move
In blest communion with her child, and fill
Even Heaven itself with prayers and hymns of love.