Mother Is Resting

The long rough rond U ended, Her weary feet have pressed ; How rough to her wenk fooUleps, ('erhaps we never guessed ; But- wlih ihe weary journey She'll be do more ilistn ¦sm'm. The ftic.e we bend and oftly klss. Beurs do Impresa but that of blls. We know Ihat mnny page Wiihln the book of yearg Slie lm pprnsed wlUi angulsh, Amid her ralling tears, Thai partings, change and doubting, Have caused her many fears : PorgoUen now.each pang of woa, No grief agnln her soul will know. We gnzeat herdenr features, W 11 li 1 11 the casket bound, And I hink ihat she Is dwelllng, Where ehangelena peace i fouud Tliat there no palnful partlnga Her loving heart wlli wound, And, wec'iJing for her, "Loveil and gono," We gather suength to walk alone- Along the way before u. Whlther- we do not know, It raay be strewn wlth blpsslngs, And pleasures may we know, Ur thlekly set wltli daugers, Muy brhig ns naught but woe, Yct o'er llfe h palbway she Iiuk come, At last, luto her Heuveuly home.