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At the cross, her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother, weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord.
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At the cross, her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother, weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord.
[Lat., Stabat mater, dolorosa
Juxta crucem lacrymosa
Que pendebat Filius.]
They say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
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They say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
O'er lesser powers that be;
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the read more
A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know read more
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, read more
There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother's heart.
Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, read more
Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, her aspect and her attitude.
And say to mothers what a holy charge
Is theirs--with what a kingly power their love
Might read more
And say to mothers what a holy charge
Is theirs--with what a kingly power their love
Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind.
The bravest battle that ever was fought;
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps read more
The bravest battle that ever was fought;
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not;
It was fought by the mothers of men.
- Joaquin Miller (pseudonym of Cincinnatus Hiner Miller),
The mother loves her child most divinely, not when she surrounds him with comfort and anticipates his wants, but when read more
The mother loves her child most divinely, not when she surrounds him with comfort and anticipates his wants, but when she resolutely holds him to the highest standards and is content with nothing less than his best.