A Praying Mother . by Leona I. Miller

Somewhere, a tearful Mother prays,

She loves her wayward child;

Still caring for her child's lost Soul,

Once so innocent, tender and mild.



While she rocked and sang a lull-a-by,

Her precious child drifted into sleep;

There in the warmth of her loving arms,

Only if the child was ill...she'd weep.



Those tender years are now gone,

Her love is still strong as back then;

She's had years to watch her child grow,

With God's Love to love again and again.



This dear Mother now has a heart to ache,

She waits patiently as her tears flow;

Kneeling to pray, she talks with God,

Her Saviour, she wants this child to know.



God bless every precious Mother who prays,

He knows her dear child will never forget;

Those times of knowing when Mother prayed,

There's peace...God is not finished yet.



There's pleasure in every temptation of sin,

Though it only lasts for a brief season;

When a loving Mother weeps and prays,

Her love for the wayward child, is the reason.