Beauty Breedeth Beauty

Amarllis 'Stardust', Keukenhof, NL

Dear B_:

From far way, I bless you at your Huntington Beach home, in peace with the Lord.

I trust in today’s Mother’s Day, the endearment between you and the children, has never severed from the fond memory of hearth and home. As fairly promised, “seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty” be yours for evermore.

All the Best,

L'

Rock Me to Sleep, Mother

Over my heart in the days that are flown
No love like mother-love ever has shown;
No other worship abides and endures —
Faithful, unselfish and patient like yours,
None like a mother can charm away pain,
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calm o'er my heavy lids creep,
Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep.

— Elizabeth Akers,"Rock Me to Sleep, Mother", 3rd stanza

Prayer for Our Mothers

"Father of Life, fold in the everlasting arms of Thy love the torch-bearers of life—the mothers of the race. As they struggle up the steeps of motherhood, through its travail of mind, body and spirit, give them a clearer vision and a guiding wisdom; grant them the compensation of a love returned and understood, and the ultimate satisfaction of knowing that they have lifted those entrusted to their care up into helpful harmony with Thy kingdom.

Bestow an especial tenderness on those who, having borne no children, nevertheless exert the sweet ministries of motherhood over their home circle.

Comfort all lonely, unmothered hearts.

Grant the ever-steadying power of Thy support through the daily discouragements, the clash and readjustments of ideals, and the anguish of bereavement that come into all mothers' lives. Increase, we pray, their cheerful steadfastness, their wistful, selfless strength; and at the close of their day, may they enter into rest with faith undimmed, and unafraid."

Copyrighted 1911. Studio Press, Philadelphia, PA.

The Heart of a Mother Has Gone with Thee

Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea,
And counted the sands that under it be?
Hast thou measured the height of heaven above?
Then may’st thou mete out a mother’s love.

Hast thou talked with the blessed of leading on
To the throne of God some wandering son?
Hast thou witnessed the angel’s bright employ?
Then may’st thou speak of a mother’s joy.

Evening and morn hast thou watched the bee
Go forth on her errands of industry.
The bee for himself hath gathered and toiled,
But the mother’s cares are all for her child.

Hast thou gone with the traveller Thought afar—
From pole to pole, and from star to star?
Thou hast—but on ocean, earth, and sea,
The heart of a mother has gone with thee.

There is not a grand, inspiring thought,
There is not a truth by wisdom taught,
There is not a feeling pure and high,
That may not be read in mother’s eye.

And ever, since earth began, that look
Has been to the wise an open book,
To win them back from the lore they prize,
To the holier love that edifies.

There are teachings in earth, and sky, and air,
The heavens the glory of God declare;
But louder than voice, beneath, above,
He is heard to speak through a mother’s love.

Emily Taylor, 1888