Epigraph
Mother! O, holy music in the sound
Of that dear word—Mother! O, visions sweet
That crowd the mind and thickly cluster round,
To drive out tempting wiles, and leave replete
The soul’s most lofty plans, and purest thought!
* * * * *
Could man have known the part divine, repressed
Through youthful life, for noblest womanhood,
When she should pass to dear maternity—
Had he the Christ, in Mother, rightly known,
Kind Heaven had spared the pains of Calvary.
Through her the first of Heavenly love is shown—
Through her, first glimpses caught of Christ, of God.
B. F. Aldrich.