IN HONOR OF OUR MOTHERS

All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother. I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life.
-- Abraham Lincoln

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when trouble thicken around us, still she will cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to our hearts.
-- Washington Irving

A mother had a slender, small body,  but a large heart --- a heart so large that everybody's grief  and everybody's joy found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.
-- Mark Twain

The mother loves her child most divinely, not when she surrounds him with comfort and anticipates his wants, but when she resolutely holds him to the highest standards and is content with nothing less than his best.
-- Hamilton Wright Mabie

M-O-T-H-E-R 
"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's growing old,
"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
"H" is for her heart of purest gold;
"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,
"R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me. 

--Howard Johnson 

A picture memory brings to me;
I look across the years and see
Myself beside my mother's knee.
I feel her gentle hand restrain
My selfish moods, and know again
A child's blind sense of wrong and pain.
But wiser now,
a man gray grown,
My childhood's needs are better known.
My mother's chastening love I own. 

-John Greenleaf Whittier

 My Mother 

Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest, 
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My mother. 

When sleep forsook my open eye, 
Who was it sung sweet lullaby 
And rocked me that I should not cry?
My mother. 

Who sat and watched my infant head 
When sleeping in my cradle bed, 
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My mother. 

When pain and sickness made me cry, 
Who gazed upon my heavy eye 
And wept, for fear that I should die?
My mother. 

Who ran to help me when I fell 
And would some pretty story tell, 
Or kiss the part to make it well?
My mother. 

Who taught my infant lips to pray, 
To love God's holy word and day, 
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?
My mother. 

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee
Who wast so very kind to me,-
My mother 

Oh no, the thought I cannot bear; 
And if God please my life to spare 
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My mother. 

When thou art feeble, old and gray, 
My healthy arm shall be thy stay, 
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My mother 

Ans when I see thee hang thy head, 
'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, 
And tears of sweet affection shed,-
My mother. 

--Jane Taylor

Somebody's Mother 

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter's day. 

The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow. 

She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng 

Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye. 

Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of 'school let out," 

Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep. 

Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way. 

Nor offered a helping hand to her--
So meek, so tired, afraid to stir 

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street. 

At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest laddie of all the group; 

He paused beside her and whispered low,
'I'll help you cross, if you wish to go." 

Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm, 

He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong. 

Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content. 

'She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow, 

'And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand, 

'If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away.' 

And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said 

Was, 'God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, and pride and joy!" 

--Mary Dow Brine

Anna M. Jarvis on the Purpose of Mother's Day 

"...To revive the dormant filial love and gratitude we owe to those who gave us birth. To be a home tie for the absent. To obliterate family estrangement. To create a bond of brotherhood through the wearing of a floral badge. To make us better children by getting us closer to the hearts of our good mothers. To brighten the lives of good mothers. To have them know we appreciate them, though we do not show it as often as we ought... 

Mothers Day is to remind us of our duty before it is too late. This day is intended that we may make new resolutions for a more active thought to our dear mothers. By words, gifts, acts of affection, and in every way possible, give her pleasure, and make her heart glad every day, and constantly keep in memory Mothers Day; when you made this resolution, lest you forget and neglect your dear mother, if absent from home write her often, tell her of a few of her noble good qualities and how you love her. 

A mother's love is new every day. God bless our faithful good mothers.