The Shasta courier., 1863-01-03
My Mother.


fuall the world there is nota habitable
s1t where ths music of these words have not
sSanded, anu awakened pleasing recolIec.
tisS Through all the years of our lives, the
stu small voice whispers in tones of deepest
;ahectioa that loved name, Mother. Well do
remember the bright land of love of which
t'iou hast spoken, and taught my infant
tongue to sing in praise of Immortality. 1t
was the spring time of life, and my fresh
young heart was full of JOY and gladness.
Dear Mother! The only friend whose love
is secured beyond all possible contingencies ;
tbS only love that time can not obscure, nor
asssHr-; fHr unworthiness, nor even ingrati.
tude can shake. In health she shares our
joys, in sickness she comforts US, in prosper.
ity our most disinterested adviser, in adver-
sit, always ready to speak words of encour-
aasment, to cheer our dropping spirits, and
direct us in those paths that lead to wealth
AMI fame. A mothers love attends us through
life at the dark portals of death it is there,
an Pafter our earthly tabernacle has been
dikolred. and returned to the dust from
h6e it came, it follows US. If we are
she embalms our memory in tears.
as.' reeounts with pride our virtues and good
deeds. If our condnct here has not been
what she desired it to be, she palliates our
faults, excuses our failings. and supplicates
the Deity for our forgiveness. I love the
name of Mother, and will ever cherish it be-
yond anything that this world affords. for
when she has left us, no matter how obe!i
s and afectionate We may have been, our
Or = conscience will tell us that we have not
afde a sufficient return for her maternal
ieHerness.
other! Thou art not now as when,
u Fears gone by, rosy health beamcd upon
thy now wan cheek, and the light of youth
btamed in thine eye with intelligent vivacity.
Thou art growing old, and thy strength is
failing; but fear not, for the Angel of Light
beekons thee on, and thou wilt be happy. 1t
is nigh evening, and thick clouds and dark
ness are gathering around, and thou art
nearing yon broad river. Thou art passing
away, and soon will be gone from our pres
ence. During thy declining years lean upon
our arm and we will sustain thee, and pro-
isact thee through the remainder of life's
-. Heaven bless thee, for thou hast
Nen our best earthly friend. and how can we
forget thee, Mother, dearer than all others
besides?
Mother, where art thou? 'Tis dark and
thou art gone, and am left to mourn thee
here alone. Soft eyes that made it spring
time in our hearts are seen no more. We
have loved the light of many a smile that has
faded from US now, and in our hearts have
fingered her sweet voice, that now is hushed
in the silence of death. She has passed over
the river, to that land of never failing beauty
and glory immortal. We shall never see her
again. Memory turns with lingering regret
to recall those smiles, and the loved tones of
that dear familiar voice, that used to fill our
young hearts with love and tenderness. In
fancy they US s-ia-ear=drean,s,, floating
over our memories IKE SHADOWS over moon
light waters. When the heart is weary with
anguish, and the soul is bowed with grief.
does she not come and whisper thoughts of
hope, comfort and consolation? Yes, sweet
memory brings her to us and the love we
fr er lifts the heart from earthly aspira.
ions. VIII ert59-->3 y dering to
krsfand, in whispers wake the hymn
of that blight and happy choir,
Enz q tan hope, and bliss, and
gnderness- -. mothers love
jewel, more precious than the
ycnest ge;as of earth, the pearl of great
bricel During the vicissitudes Of life we will
never forget her loving kindness. and will
ever cherish and keep sacred her dear image.