It is believed that as God could not be everywhere,
he created Mothers so that they could give birth to life and guide the
world. As a result, nothing in this world can compare to the love and
affection she bestows upon her kids. Her humble deeds, her gentle words,
her caring ways are means of true bliss on earth. The debt of a mother
cannot be repaid at any cost. The only thing which can be done for her
is to respect and love her for everything she ever does. So, if you want
to make your mom feel special do write a small poem for her this Easter.
If not this, dedicate poems to her which expresses your true feelings.
Some heart touching poetry for mom is given below.
By Her Elbows on My Bed
I was but a youth and thoughtless,
As all youth are apt to be,
Though I had a Christian mother
Who had taught me carefully
But there came a time when pleasures
Of the world came to allure,
And I no more sought the guidance
Of her love so good and pure.
But mother would not yield her boy
To Satan's sinful sway,
And though I spurned her counsel
She knew a better way.
No more she tried to caution
Of ways she knew were vain,
And though I guessed her heartache
I could not know its pain.
She made my room her altar,
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
Best can understand 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 knew that she had been there,
Praying for her wayward boy,
Who for the love of worldly pleasure
Would her peace of mind destroy.
While I wrestled with my conscience,
Mother wrestled still in prayer,
Till that little room seemed hallowed
Because so oft she met Him there.
With her God she held her fortress,
And though not a word she said,
My stubborn heart was broken
By those imprints on my bed.
Long the conflict raged within me,
Sin against my mother's prayer.
Sin must yield, for mother never,
While she daily met Him there.
Mother-love and God-love
Are a combination rare,
And ones that can't be beaten
When sealed in earnest prayer.
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.
My Mother's Bible
There's a dear and precious Book,
Though it's worn and faded now,
Which recall those happy days of long ago,
When I stood at mother's knee,
With her hand upon my brow,
Blessed Book, precious Book,
On thy dear old tear stained leaves I love to look;
As she read the stories o'er
Of those mighty men of old,
Of Joseph and of Daniel and their trials,
Of little David bold,
Who became a king at last,
Of Satan and his many wicked wiles.
Then she read of Jesus' love,
As He blessed the children dear,
How He suffered, bled and died upon the tree;
Of His heavy load of care,
Then she dried my flowing tears
With her kisses as she said it was for me.
Well, those days are past and gone,
But their memory lingers still
And the dear old Book each day has been my guide;
As I seek to do His will,
As my mother taught me then,
And ever in my heart His Words abide.
