I was
but a youth and thoughtless,
As
all youths are apt to be.
Though I had a Christian mother,
Who
had taught me carefully.
There
came a time when pleasure,
Of
the world came to allure.
And I
no more sought the guidance,
Of
her love so good and pure.
Her
tender admonitions fell,
But
lightly on my ear.
And
for the gentle warnings,
I
felt an inward sneer.
But
mother would not yield her girl,
To
Satan's sinful sway.
And
though I spurred her counsel,
She
knew a better way.
She
made my room an alter,
A
place of secret prayer.
And
there she took her burden,
And
left it in His care.
And
morning, noon and evening,
By
that humble bedside low.
She
sought the aid of Him who,
Understands a mother's woe.
And I
went my way unheeding,
Careless of the life I led.
Until
one day I noticed,
Prints of elbows on my bed.
Then
I saw that she had been there,
Praying for her wayward girl.
Who
for love of worldly pleasure,
Would
her peace of mind destroy.
Long
the conflict raged within me,
Sin
against my mother's prayers.
Sin
must yield - for Mother never,
While
she daily met Him there.
And
her constant love and patience,
Were
like coals upon my head.
Together with the imprints,
Of
her elbows on my bed.
And
so at last, the fight was won,
And I
to Christ was led.
And
mother's prayers were answered,
By
her elbows on my bed.
~Author
Unknown~
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