I raised Him as a good boy, taught Him well, all through His life. I tried to do the best I could, as a Mother and a wife.
Death is life, and life is death, how odd a mystery.
God, Himself, became a man for everyone to see. Life is more than food and drink, or striving to obtain. Early Easter morning, All my children ran downstairs. Looking for their baskets, That we hid behind the chairs. We lived out in the country, fifty miles from a big town.