Our mother's love, like a candle,
Burns brightly upon the shelf.
As she lights the way for all others,
Never thinking of herself.

Seven little kids in a farmhouse
By my moms hard work survived.
Through her love and faith in Jesus,
We learned how to struggle and strive.

The lilacs still bloom by the window
Where our mom would quilt and sew.
In the winter she'd sing by the fire
To the tunes she thought we should know.

Our father labored at a quarry
In the dust of the earth every day.
He worked so hard for his money
For the bills our family must pay.

Little sister came down with pneumonia
And almost died in bed.
Our momma lie sick beside her
Putting cool rags on her head.

We were sure glad to see daddy's face
As he drove up our driveway.
He ran up and into the house,
Then knelt by their bed to pray.

'Oh, Lord, please save my family
From the fever that burns within
For we have always loved Jesus
And will serve him till our end'

Our mother and sister survived,
But, daddy, he died long ago.
When it's our time for heaven,
We’ll see many that we know.


By Love Poet
Tom Zart
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