Mother had a treasured Bible That was worn and rather thin; When we brought our troubles to her, She would take it down, again. Seemed she always found the answer In those fragile pages there -- And we noticed how she handled it With tender, loving care. When our hearts were broken, bleeding, She would tell how Jesus, too, Knew the salty taste of tears, As He prayed the long night through. And, when we came with hearts aflutter, Proud of deeds that we had done She would show us that tomorrow Comes a new song to be sung. How she loved us!  How she steadied From the low ebb to the height! How she reverenced that old Bible, How she spread it's precious light! Every child knew faith and reverence, Even those who weren't her own. For, her open arms would often Shelter one without a home. Now, the years have slipped behind us. She has left this home, below. But, we look to Heaven gladly, Knowing it's where she would go. Fragile pages of her Bible, Handle we with loving care! Still we find, within it's pages, Truth and life forever there! © by Joan Clifton Costner Please visit Joan - Under His Wings click on the icon below to read more inspirational poetry written by a very gifted and talented lady.

Painting used on this page is 'Sybilla Palmifella'
painted by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

 

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