Mother with the golden hair,
Mother still young and fair;
Gazing at your baby dear,
Heaven seems to you most near.
God who made the glowing flowers,
God who made the woodland bowers,
God who is so wise and good,
Gave the gift called motherhood.
Lovely are the birds of flight,
Glorious are the stars of night:
Far more beautiful than they,
Is this gift for mortals’ day.
Mother, count your blessings, try;
Blessings money could not buy:
Children romping with their toys,
Mothers’ love, and mothers’ joys.
Motherhood has brought to you
Blessings for your whole life through;
Motherhood has made you mother, –
You’d not change for any other.
Mother, slow sweet years will pass,
Baby will become a lass;
You must meet the mother’s test;
Motherhood should have your best.
You can take the selfish road,
Shun the mother’s heavy load:
Motherhood can have your worst;
You can take the way accursed.
You will need the Savior’s grace,
You should turn to Christ your face:
For you must always true,
God and man depend on you.
You may feel a cruel cross,
You may suffer bitter loss:
You must rally from each blow,
You must still toward victory go.
You must keep the goal in sight;
Turn not from it left or right:
You for Christ and heaven build;
Till your last heart beat is stilled.
You must go the long, long way,
Golden hair will turn to gray:
Wrinkles will possess the face
Now so fair with youthful grace.
You may then be left to weep
For the child you couldn’t keep:
Death sometimes the fairest takes,
Of our love as cross then makes.
You a bitter cup may drink,
Sadder than you now dare think:
Feet in sin may choose to stray,
Leaving you for years to pray.
You may reap glad earthly joys,
See your loved one in good employs:
Never know the anxious part
Never know a broken heart.
God has made a perfect plan,
Far transcending our mind’s span:
Serve with Christ your journey through
Glorious things are waiting you.
You may fail to understand
Till you reach the heavenly strand:
But as sure as God is good,
Joys await true motherhood.
Mary and baby Jesus Christ, ‘La vierge aux raisins’ by Pierre Mignard (1640). Pierre Mignard (November 7, 1612 to May 30, 1695), also called ‘Le Romain’ to distinguish him from his brother Nicolas and his nephew Pierre II, was a French painter, born at Troyes.