Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1912-05-17

enthusiasm and the white carnation
was chosen as Mothers flower" In
most of the churches the morning serv-
ice is more an appreciation of mother
than anything else, and a beautiful
service il becomes. Men and women,
whose lives have become so full of the
world and its engrossing plans that
neither church nor home have received
the attention deserved, may go to
church on that day and once more re-
new allegiance with the pure, true
teachings that are the foundation of
our country. Letters are written home,
flowers, books and candy are sent to
mother instead of the girls who have
Joined in all the plans Of fun or recre-
alton and have almost made them for
get home.
of women in the world. good, bad and
Indifferent, and one cannot expect the
marigold to give forth the incense of
the violet. nor for either Of them to be
a magnolia, yet every mother, be she
as selfish as possible, has a certain
amount of love for her child and thinks
she is doing her very best. Death or
misfortune frequently opens such
woman's eyes TO her lack of care or at
tention.
on the other hand there are mothers
who have shaved for husband and chill
dren until the sensibilities of that fam
lily are blunted and they also fail to
realize their selhshness until that
mothers hands are foldei on a pulse
less breast
Many of you know the Jewish prov
erb. God could not be everywhere, so
He made mothers"
/ don't think any one las written a
truer summing up of the situation than
DR.. T. Dewitt Talmage: Mothers chair
has rocked the whO,~ family. II made
a ereaking noise as il moved, but there
was music in its sound. Ii was Just
high enough for us children TO put
our heads in her lap. That was the
bank where we deposited all our hurts
and worries. Oh, what a chair that
was. 1t was a very wakeful chair In
the sick day of children other chairs
could not keep awake-it kept easily
awake That chair knew all the old
lullabies. and all those wordless songs
that mothers sing to their children.
Songs ia which all pity and compass
sion and sympathetic influences are
combined. That old chair has. stopped
rocking for a good many years II may
set up In the loft or garnet, but 1T holds
a queenly power yet"
Have you ever heard cynics talk?
Some OF them live in every town, or
neighborhood. and it may be your mis-
fortune to have TO hear the hard
things said. Did you ever mildly sug-
gest that his mother belonged to the
race he so loved to sneer at. and hear
the quick reply, in indignant tones,
my mother was quite a different wom-
an" That is the way with most peo-
pie God pity the son or daughter
who cannot look back over childhood.
barren though il may be in every 9TH
er respect, and not see innumerable in
stances OF mother-Iove and know that
the most appreciated monument
erected to her memory will be a we'll
spent life Every mother plans from
the cradle TO the carly manhood of her
son most glorious things, and when
her plans come TO naught there are
tears in her heart. whether her pride
lets them come to the sight of mortals.
Poets and painters have spent their
best efforts in paying tribute to moth
erhood. Think Of the verses as old as
time that have been handed down in
honor OF mother. Think of the old
songs and fugitive verses that are
floating over the world, like sunshine,
purifying lives and uplifting ideals!
Think of the world-weary hearts that
unconsciously murmur Backward!
turn. UaChNdrus on llInes III your
flight and believe they would barter
their all for an hour In mothers arms!
And oh. the pity of IL! Think of the
mothers who have trudged miles and
miles, entreating men and women to
sign their petitions for sons in felons'
cells, Listen to their pleadings, and
you will see how they have forgotten
all the unkindness and have magnified
every act Of love and consideration.
Give him just this chance, Judge" a
mother pleaded after a notorious ruff
fan had been sentenced for being
drunk. and even striking her. Il loved
him so much l couldn't resist him, and
I let him have his own way. j am
to blame, judge. When he cried for a
thing, / let him have it,"
Have you forgotten Mothers day
this year? Have you ever celebrated
il Write a letter home; If possible,
go TO the old home. or wherever
''mt'ther" is. ana resolve that the
future shall redeem the past.
Perhaps mother has gone. NO man