Mother’s Way Amos R. Wells

Mother’s Way

The way may be long from that land of song,
That country of endless day,
But far or near, I have never a fear
But mother will find a way.

They will want her there in a mansion fair,
But ah! she will say them nay.
And out of that joy to the heart of her boy
My mother will find a way.

She will hasten back on the starry track,
She will neither faint nor stay;
Through whatever wild, to her longing child
My mother will find a way.

They were worn and sore in the days of yore,
Those feet of mutable clay:
Now on wings of white in untiring flight
My mother will cleave her way.

I shall know it well when she comes to dwell-
For a year or a month or a day;
No fragment of speech my senses may reach,
But mother will find a way.

Sad things she will see when she comes to me,
My sins- a wretched array;
But I’m sure of her will to believe in me
And mothers will find a way.