O, sir, I had one of the best of mothers. She would
never go to bed without coming to my bed-side, and if I was asleep, she
would awaken me, and pray for me before she retired. Twelve years have
elapsed since she died, and five years of that time I have been on the
ocean, five years on this canal; and the other two years traveling. I do
not know that I have laid my head on my pillow and gone to sleep, during
that time, without thinking of the prayers of my mother: yet I am not a
Christian; but the prayers of my mother are ended. I have put off the
subject too long, but from this time I will attend to it. I will begin
now and do all that I can to be a Christian.'
"I hope those dear mothers, who may have an opportunity of reading these
sketches, will inquire of their own hearts, 'Will my own dear children,
those little pledges of God's love, remember my prayers twelve years
after my head is laid in the narrow house appointed for all the living?'
Oh, could we place that estimate on the soul which we should do, in the
light of eternity, how much anxiety would be manifested on the part of
parents for their children, and for the whole families of the earth. The
midnight slumber would more often be disturbed by cries to God, and
tears for this fallen, apostate, rebellious world."
Mothers! what do you think of such facts? And what are they designed to
teach you? Every one of them, as you meet them in the pilgrimage of
life, is a voice of encouragement from above.
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