Art by Émile Munier
Who is it that loves me and will love me forever with
an affection which no chance, no misery, no crime
of mine can do away? — It is you, my mother."
Mother's arms are made of tenderness,
and sweet sleep blesses the child who lies therein.
When God thought of mother, He must have laughed with
satisfaction, and framed it quickly—so rich, so deep,
so divine, so full of soul, power, and beauty, was
Henry Ward Beecher