COMFORT IN SORROW

She made the meals for them each day,
And taught her as a child to pray.
She was the best of any other,
She was her dear beloved mother.

But now she's gone to her reward.
Called by the Love whom she adored.
Her death, like a sword, pierced her heart.
From her in sorrow she could not part.

When she in vain man's counsel seeks,
To try her troubles to delete.
She gains both strength and peace of mind,
When Love's own Mother's help she finds.