AH! sune ye'll lay yer mither doon in her lanely bed and narrow; But, till ye're sleeping by her side, ye'll never meet her marrow! A faither's love is strong and deep, and ready is a brither's, -- A sister's love is pure and sweet -- but what love's like a mither's? Ye maunna greet owre muckle, bairns, as round the fire ye gaither, And see the twa chairs empty then, o' mither and o' faither; Nor dinna let yer hearts be dreich, when wintry winds are blawin', And on their graves, wi' angry sugh, the snelly drift is snawin'; But think of blyther times gane by -- the mony years of blessing, When sorrow pass'd the door, and nane frae 'mang ye a' were missing. And mind the peacefu' gloamin' hours when the out-door wark was endin', And after time, when auld grey heads wi'yours in prayer were bendin'. And think hoo happy baith are noo, abune a' thocht or tellin'; For they're at hame, and young again, within their Faither's dwellin'. Sae gin ye wish to meet up there yer faither and yer mither, O love their God, and be gude bairns, and O love ane anither! |