Along the way, a young mother's song
Inspired her children, taggin' along.
In brilliant brightness, heart so light,
She loved her children with all her might.
But, her Dear Guide warned, "Oh, the way is hard.
You will grow weary, wrinkled and tired,
Before you reach your journey's end."

But, she gathered flowers and sang a hymn,
"Nothing can tear the joy from my heart.
I'm not afraid, I will do my part.
"Then, night came down, with a storm and a gale.
The children shook and grew so pale.
But, mother gathered them, tight in her arms,
And drove away their fear and alarms.

Her mantle wrapped o’er the children, so tight,
She calmed their fears, throughout the black night.
The children smiled, "We're no longer afraid.
Mother, you taught us courage, today!
"The mother smiled and knew, in her heart,
This night was better than the light at the start.
When morning came, a hill, so tall,
Made the children so weary and small.

Mother was worn.  But, she cheered them on,
'Til they reached the top and could see beyond.
"We would never have made it, Mother, alone.
You taught us fortitude, of our own.
"And, the mother knew, down deep in her heart,
This lesson of strength was a needed part.

Clouds of war, and evil, and hate
Threatened her, now, each step of the way.
And, the children groped, and stumbled, and fell.
But, the mother's prayers lifted them from Hell,
"Look up to the Light!  Look up and you'll see
The One Who always is guiding me!

"The children turned their hearts and their heads,
And their faith was fired. They were rightly led.
"Out of the darkness to Eternal Light,
I've shown my children their Savior, tonight.
And, this is the day, the best of all days!
To God be the glory, the honor, and praise!

"Days and then weeks; months and then years,
Though Mother grew old, she suffered no fears.
For, her children were strong and tall as the trees,
Tallest of all when down on their knees!
Their courage failed not and their fortitude stayed,
Their Salvation sure as the choice they had made!

Now, the road grew rough.  But, the strong children ran
And raised the dear Mother up by the hand.
Light as a feather, they bore her across,
Sure she would make every step with no loss.
When they came to the hill with the path of pure gold,
Mother was feeble and very old.

At the end of the path were the golden gates
And, here, the last journey that Mother would make.
"The end, now, I see is better, by far,
Than when we began.  For, now, you are
Able to stand and walk all alone,
Able to teach children of your own.

"And, she walked all alone, through the gates of pearl.
But, the children said, "She is with us, still.
Though we cannot see, we know she is near.
Her precious spirit will strengthen and cheer. For, a mother like ours is from God, alone.
In His love, He has only brought her back home."

© by Joan Clifton Costner

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to read more inspirational poetry written by
a very gifted and talented lady.

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Painting used on this page is 'The Cloister of the Bell'
painted by Arthur Hacker

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