My Mother's Bible

There's a dear and precious book,
Tho' it's worn and faded now,
Which recalls the happy days of long ago,
When I stood at mother's knee,
With her hand upon my brow,
And I heard her voice in gentle tones and low.
Blessed book, precious book,
On thy dear old tear-stained leaves I love to look;
Thou art sweeter day by day,
As I walk the narrow way
That leads at last to that bright home above.
Then she read of Jesus' love,
As He blest 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.
Blessed book, precious book,
On thy dear old tear-stained leaves I love to look;
Thou art sweeter day by day,
As I walk the narrow way
That leads at last to that bright home above.