by Stephen Esterline
Mama's Bible, so ragged and worn,
Its pages are scribbled, ripped and torn.
Its been around for ages, she's had it for years,
Some pages smudged
by rain and some by her tears
The name on the cover is faded, it's true.
There might be a page missing, or two.
To look at that book one might
scoff and frown
They may say, "Why, there's no use in keeping it around.
"A new Bible, I'm certain, is what you must need,
pages so perfect, and pictures indeed."
But friends, I know better and I'm here to persuade'
There's more in that ol' book, more than
I can say.
For she read it and held it so close to her heart,
Its Knowledge and Wisdom and Love to impart.
She held it so tightly, through storm and
But ever much closer when her children were ill.
Her faith can be seen on each page and each line,
Her writings of love time after
She carried it high through thick and through thin,
So proud of the holy scriptures contained within.
Of all of the treasures in this world
we can hold,
The Bible of mom so ragged and old.
Is far more precious than any other,
For it was given to her by her dear mother.
No memory is
more precious, none that I hold so dear,
When the storms of my life bring me much fear
The vision of mother, the love on her face . . .
I remember when
mama would sing "Amazing Grace"!