Classic Poem

A mother needs Thee, Lord,
So often through the day
For tiny, mischief-making hands,
For little feet that play.

A mother needs Thee, Lord,
Especially at night,
To fill the darkened corners with
Thy steady, quenchless light.

As once in Galilee,
So by the sick one's bed,
Bless every anxious mother's heart
As well as each small head.

Who taught my heart to seek,
My stubborn knee to bow,
Trusted to me these little ones;
I need Thee greatly — now.