1 I’d like to be a child again from care and sorrow free,
And in my dreams those happy hours I oft can plainly see;
I’d like to see my mother stand within the cottage door,
And hear her sweetly call to me as in those days of yore.
Refrain:
“My child, ‘tis growing dark, I’d rather you’d come in,”
O memory so sweet that lives in spite of sin,
And then I see her stand within the open door;
I’d give the world if I could hear
My mother’s voice once more.
2 And oft in sorrow’s chast’ning hour her voice I seem to hear,
Amid the shadows of my grief it comes so sweet and clear;
“For he shall dwell in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee,”
How often has my mother said those blessed words to me. [Refrain]
3 Time’s changes never can remove her face from mem’ry’s walls,
Nor hush the sweetness of her voice that mem’ry oft recalls;
And heaven’s joys shall be more bright, its bliss beyond compare,
When I shall stand before the throne and meet my mother there. [Refrain]
Source: New Songs of Pentecost No. 3 #29