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Home » Publications » Free Presbyterian Magazine » 1993 » October 1993 » Mother Mine

Mother Mine

Mother mine who is in Glory,
In that land where sin’s unknown.
Land of bliss where Christ’s the Sunshine
And from where all grief has flown.

Mother mine you taught me early,
To seek Jesus and his love,
To set lightly earth’s vain shadows,
And set store by things above.

Ere I scarce could lisp His great name
I recall your gentle voice,
Pressing me to make the Saviour,
My own early, only choice.

Telling me to prize the Bible,
With the truth my mind to fill
To esteem my soul’s salvation,
Above all that earth can give.

That I am a fallen sinner,
But that Jesus shed his blood,
If I seek that I will find Him,
He alone can do me good.

Mother mine I miss you sadly,
Miss you more as years go by,
Miss your wise and gentle counsel,
Miss your meek and gracious eye.

Miss your prayer and miss your pity,
Miss your sympathy and love,
Miss your heartfelt, faithful pleading,
For my never-dying soul.

Oft you had your cross to carry
While you had your grief to bear
And your drink was tear-mixed often
While you mourned in Baca’s Vale.

Oh the sore anguish of spirit,
Which you often had to bear,
And the broken-hearted sorrow,
On account of Satan’s rage.

Fierce and cruel were his onslaughts,
For he knew his time was short,
And he kept the billows raging,
So to keep you out of port.

Sleepless nights of bitter anguish,
While you mourned an absent Lord,
For the hiding of His fair face,
Did surpass all other loads.

But the gentle Saviour conquered,
When His time came to relieve,
And He stilled the rage of Satan
Like the waves of Galilee.

Oh the calm His presence brought you
And His gentle ‘Peace be still’,
Your whole being now seemed yearning
With desire to do His will.

Now the mountains may be altered,
And the hills may be removed,
But His lovingkindness fails not,
And His covenant standeth sure.

Mother mine I loved you dearly,
Fonder still you loved me too,
Till I felt that parting with you,
Clave my lonely heart in two.

Would that I might tread your footsteps,
With affection set on High,
Would that I would weigh my anchor,
And from sin and sorrow fly.

For I’m lonely in this desert,
And I long to be away,
Long to meet your ransomed spirit
In that land of endless day.

Long to meet my loving Saviour,
Long to serve Him without sin,
And be free from all corruption,
Pure without and pure within.

Long to breath the Holy Spirit
Where no sin is ever known;
Long to meet with kindred spirit,
Long to feel the rest of Home.

Yea I long to be made holy,
Meet for that bright Land above,
Where I’ll never know contention,
Ne’er where is a breath but love.

What a Lover, what a Husband,
What a Saviour, what a Guide,
Who can win such perverse rebels,
Make them meet to be His bride.

Soon we’ll meet no more to sever,
In that Summer Land above,
Where no discord e’er can enter,
Each and all diffuses love.

We’ll adorn and praise Him ever,
In that Happy Home above,
And our theme through endless ages,
Will be Jesus and His love.

(Composed by Mary Mackintosh, Gairloch).

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