"My Mother's Bible"

There’s a dear and precious little note
these tears in my mother’s bible,
though it’s worn and faded now
her blessings for me the child,
she reads those stories
troubled in her mind.
Her dear little David
years are passed away,
of my heavy load of fear
who became a King at last,
famous with Uriah’s armies
the lust of my mind for his wife.
Bathsheba delivering our baby child
dying punished for my wicked ways,
well those days are passed away
but their memories linger on.
My dear mother taught me
with a bible in her hand,
the golden silence
abiding in my heart.
To walk a narrow way
there upon the hillside,
Jesus her great grandson
appeared in the clear blue sky,
her holy spirit set free into heaven’s
multitudes of angels praising her name -