Of all the beautiful pictures
That hang on my memories wall;
The one of my happy childhood,
It seemeth the best of all.
Not for the pleasant farm-house,
With its woods across the way.
Not for its wide flung pastures,
Wherein we ran at play.
Not for its barns and gardens
With each thing in its place,
But for the happy welcome
On my Mother's smiling face.

There we lived and worked together
As we grew in man's estate;
With our cheerful singing father
And his sweet and helpful mate.
And each day they tried to show us
By example, what was true,
That decent Christian living
Was the only way to do.
And, though we were not always good,
I now would fain erase
Any lines of care we caused her,
From my Mother's smiling face.

And so, of the beautiful pictures
With which I would not part,
Is that of my kind, brave mother,
That is etched deep into my heart.
How she's stood through life's great troubles,
With marvelous courage rare.
And smoothed away the sorrows
That we each were called to bear.
And I pray that God will grant me
Through His great unfailing grace,
The chance to keep all troubles
From my Mother's smiling face.