The Dying Mother

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On a cold winters eve as the snow flakes were falling
In a low humble cottage an poor mother lay
And although wrecked with pain she lay there contented
With her savior her friend and peace with Him made

We will all meet again on that great judgment morning
The book will be opened the roll will be called
Oh how sad it will be if forever were parted
While some rise to glory and others stand to fall

Oh that mother of yours has gone oe'r the river
And you promised you'd meet her while knelt by her bed
As the death sweat rolled off and fell down on her pillow
Over memories she'll live although she is dead

You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered
Oh the arms that embraced you are with you no more
As we stand by the grave tears drops fall on her passage
And we vow there to meet her on that happy shore

Autor(es): A.P. Carter

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