 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
Elbows On My Bed
|
| Author Unknown |
| |
I was but a youth and thoughtless,
As all youth
are apt to be,
Though I had a Christian mother
Who had taught me carefully
But there came
a time when pleasures
Of the world came to allure,
And I no more sought the guidance
Of her love
so good and pure.
But mother would not yield
her boy
To Satan's sinful sway,
And though I
spurned her counsel
She knew a better way.
No more she tried to caution
Of ways she knew
were vain,
And though I guessed her heartache
I could not know its pain.
She made my room
her altar,
A place of secret prayer,
And there
she took her burden
And left it in His care.
And morning, noon, and evening
By that humble
bedside low,
She sought the aid of Him, who
Best can understand a mother's woe.
And I went
my way unheeding,
Careless of the life I led,
Until one day I noticed
Prints of elbows on
my bed.
Then I knew that she had been there,
Praying for her wayward boy,
Who for the love
of worldly pleasure
Would her peace of mind destroy.
While I wrestled with my conscience,
Mother
wrestled still in prayer,
Till that little room
seemed hallowed
Because so oft she met Him there.
With her God she held her fortress,
And
though not a word she said,
My stubborn heart was
broken
By those imprints on my bed.
Long
the conflict raged within me,
Sin against my mother's
prayer.
Sin must yield, for mother never,
While
she daily met Him there.
Mother-love and God-love
Are a combination rare,
And ones that can't
be beaten
When sealed in earnest prayer.
And so at last the fight was won,
And I to Christ
was led,
And Mother's prayers were answered
By her elbows on my bed. |
|
| |
| Email
This Poem to a Friend |
|
Bookmark This Page |
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
The copyrights of all poems on this website belong to the individual authors.
Website Copyright 2000 - 2010 Ellen Bailey Poems |
| |