The commercial. (Union City, Tenn.) 190?-193?, 1922-02-24
Tribute to Mother Love.

! Below is given part of tribute t.
Mother Love delivered recently b,
Senator James A. Reed of Missouri
addressing himself to the Maternit.
Bill. 1t is so noble it will likely be
come a classic. Every school should
have it read to assembled pupils ant
every scrap book should garner it
The tribute, in part, follows:
Mother love! The golden cord thai
stretches from the throne of God
uniting all animate creation to divin,
ity. It's light CLEANS down the path
of time from barbarous ages, when
savage women held their babes to al
most famished breasts and died that
they might live! Its holy fame glows
as brightly in novels, where poverty
breaks a meager crust, as in palaces,
where wealth holds Lucullan feasts.
1t is the one great universal passion
of sacrifice, incompatible in its sub
limitv.
The wild beasts hear its voice and
answer to it's cal. A tigress, find
ing her cubs slaughtered, pauses to
lick their wounds, and then with rag
ing heart seeks out their murderer
A she-wolf, standing at the mouth OF
her den, with cleaning fangs and
blood-red tongue, dies in defense of
her whelps
once saw timorous mother quail
with marvellous intelligence, and still
more marvellous courage, protect her
brood by exposing herself to the
hunters deadly aim. then realized
that nothing could take the place of
mother love.
If the divine fire SO warns and
thrills the heart of beast and bird,
with what intensity does it consume
the bosom, with what ecstasy inspire
the soul of woman for the child of
her body. Although she knows she
must risk her own to bring forth new
life, she does not draw back. Her
1ove-lit eyes behold only visions of
happiness, of glory and of power to
be realized by her unborn child. With
smiling lips and eager heart, she en-
ters the vale of shadows. The first
cry of the newborn falls on her ear,
sweet as the music OF Paradise. Her
trembling hands caress the tender
skin; her soul cries out the anxious
question: "Will my baby live?" The
torturing days of convalescence fly
swiftly upon the wings of hope. She
nestles the tiny, helpless thing to her
bosom, sustains it with the milk of
her body, every drop drawn from a
fountain of infinite love.
With indescribable solicitude she
watches over the offspring. Even
when her body slumbers her soul
keeps vigil, and her hands, in unison
with her spirit, will stretch forth to
;oothe the baby back to sleep. With
glowing pride she watches the grow
ng child, shields it from harm, |
guides it along the path of rectitude,
Inspires it's soul with lofty sentiments
If honor and faith in the Eternal |
Tod.
When Time has piled the snow up
IN her head and turned her brown or
aven locks to white, her love still
bides, ripper and sweeter, with the
,assing years. Though she may live
IntiI her children themselves have
rown old and gray, she will yet see
he silken locks of youth; their
oughened hands yet have the ca
essing touch of baby fingers; their
oices bear to her the tender and
lelodious notes of industry. And
hen at last she approaches the por
ais of Death, there is no solace SO
weet as the presence of those she
ore "to people and replenish the
arth.''
For mother love there is no substi-
ute. If there is truth in religion,
hen this holy sentiment YVES planted
4 woman's heart by the hand of God. !