My mother's face is wrinkled now,
And not so soft and fair,
And silvery threads are shining where
There once was jet black hair;
But when I see the love light shine
From out her dimming eyes,
It seems but a reflection from
The gates of paradise.
Her hands, once soft and lovely,
Are thin and aged now;
But oh, how many, many times
They've soothed some aching brow.
They might not seem so lovely if
Their shape alone you see,
But oh, I know their deeds of love--
They're beautiful to me.
Her steps are feeble, faltering,
That once were firm and light.
How many steps her feet have made
By day as well as night!
She may seem old to others--not
So beautiful to see;
But she'll always be the loveliest
Of all on earth to me.
~taken from Daughters of Destiny, by Noelle Wheeler.