The Dying Mother

On a cold winter eve as the snow flakes were falling

In a low humble cottage an poor mother lay

And although wracked with pain she lay there contented

With her savior her friend and peace with Him made

We will all meet again on that great judgment morning

The books will be opened the roll will be called

Oh how sad it will be if forever were parted

While some rise to glory and others stand to fall

Oh that mother of yours has gone oe'r the river

And you promised you'd meet her while knelt by her bed

As the death sweat rolled off and fell down on her pillow

Oh her memory still lives although she is dead

You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered

Oh the arms that embraced you are with you no more

As we stand by the grave teardrops fall on her casket

And we vowed there to meet her on that happy shore

Recorded 10/3/40 - Chicago, IL