Memories of Childhood

There’s a dear old home in the val­ley

It has stood there ma­ny long years

’Twas the scene of joys and sor­rows

’Twas the scene of smiles and tears;

We were rocked in the old-fa­shioned cra­dle

Sung to sleep in the old rock­ing chair;

But the mo­ther who sang then so sweet­ly

Sings to­day in the home ov­er there.

That vine-co­vered home

how I loved it

With its low hang­ing porch

near the well;

O

to think once again of my child­hood

Brings a thrill that my tongue can­not tell;

But the me­mo­ry dear­er than oth­er

As I look o’er the years fraught with care;

Is the me­mo­ry of that pre­cious mo­ther

As she sat in the old rock­ing chair.

How she watched o’er the flow­ers in the garden

Trained the vines run­ning ov­er the wall

Wreathing win­dow with bright morn­ing glories

’Neath the great ma­ple tree shad­ing all;

But her work here on earth now is end­ed

Nevermore will I hear her in pray­er;

Yet I know she is now with the Sav­ior

And I’ll meet her at last ov­er there.