And sure it was! You were my first dear
love!
You who first pointed me to God above;
You who seemed hearkening to my lightest
word,
And in the dark night seasons always
heard
When I came trembling, knocking at your
door.
Forgive me, mother, if my whims outwore
Your patient heart. Or if in later days
I sought out foolish unfamiliar ways;
If ever, mother dear, I loosed my hold
Of your loved hand; or, headstrong,
thought you cold,
Forgive me, mother! Oh, forgive me,
dear!
I am come back at last -- you see me
here,
Your loving child. . . . And, mother,
on my knee
I pray that thus my child may think of
me!





In Such an Hour