My Mother's Bible

Poems that reflect the influence that our mothers have had on our lives and our faith. My Mother's Bible and the other poems here are ones that you can see the impact that Mothers have regarding God and the bible.

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- related: Motivational Quotes From The Bible

This short Christian poem, My Mother's Bible, is one that describes a mother's hope that her children will follow the bible.
Even to the point of her dying breaths will encourage her children to follow the Word of God. The last verse points out that the bible is the truest friend that a person can have. It can teach you how to live and it gives you hope as you die.

My Mother's Bible
Poet: George Pope Morris

This book is all that's left me now, -
Tears will unbidden start, -
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart.
For many generations past
Here is our family tree;
My mother's hands this Bible clasped,
She, dying, gave it me.

Ah! well do I remember those
Whose names these records bear;
Who round the hearthstone used to close,
After the evening prayer,
And speak of what these pages said
In tones my heart would thrill!
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still!

My father read this holy book
To brothers, sisters, dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look,
Who loved God's word to hear!
Her angel face,- I see it yet!
What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried;
When all were false, I found thee true,
My counsellor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasures give
That could this volume buy;
In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die!

Another poem about a Mother's bible that shows how a Mother treasured her Bible.
The passing down of a Bible can have an impact on the lives of others.
This poem was written by a son about the book his Mom used to read, and the impact it had on her life:
The Book My Mother Read
Poet: Dwight Williams

I have it yet, the dear old book
That lay upon the stand,
In which she often used to look,
And always at her hand;
The corners rounded are with age,
The leaves are worn and thin,
And dim the lines on many a page
She so delighted in.

A half-hours rest in household toil
For needed strength she caught,
And in the light of fragrant oil
She found the place she sought;
And heavy labor turned to love,
And duty led away
To visions of the land above,
A Sabbath-hour each day.

The book remains more sacred still
Because of her dear eyes,
That saw therein Gods wondrous will
And saw not otherwise;
For thus she found a way to Him
Who down to evening late,
And through the valley, lone and dim,
Brought her to His dear gate.

At Mother's Knee
Poet: Unknown

I have worshipped in churches and chapels;
I have prayed in the busy streets;
I have sought my God and have found Him
Where the waves of the ocean beat.
I have knelt in the silent forest,
In the shade of some ancient tree.
But the dearest of all my altars.
Was raised at my mother's knee.

I have listened to God in His temples;
I have caught His voice in crowd;
I have heard Him speak when the breakers
Were roaring long and loud.
Where the winds play soft in the tree tops,
His voice has talked to me;
But I never have heard Him clearer
Than I did at my mother's knee.
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