My mother’s hand is on my brow,
Her gentle voice is pleading now;
Across the years so marred by sin
What memories of love steal in!
O mother, when I think of thee,
’Tis but a step to Calvary;
Thy gentle hand upon my brow
Is leading me to Jesus now.
Once more I see that look of pain,
The anguish in those eyes again;
My heart is sad, for well I know
My sin has caused this bitter woe.
While others scorned me in their pride
She gently drew me to her side;
When all the world has turned away,
My mother stood by me that day.
The memories of bygone years,
My mother’s love, my mother’s tears,
The tho’t of all her constant care
Doth bring the answer to her prayer.
I’m coming home, by sin beset,
For Jesus loves me even yet;
My mother’s love brings home to me
The greater love of Calvary.