Mama's Bible

There's a book 'pon my table, pages old, tattered and torn.
It was left to me by my mother, all the pages quite, well worn.
She sat and read it nightly, as we all gathered 'round to hear.
She told us to love our Jesus, He would come and hold us near.

Daddy loved to listen, would set us 'round about the wooden stove,
As mama read all the stories that Jesus and His disciples, wondrously wove.
She'd mark the page in passage, folding a corner for me to read.
This, I think is so wonderfully, the way mama sowed her seed.

The old Bible is slightly faded, but it's worth more than silver or gold.
In all the beautiful passages, the words of our Savior are told.
She would say. Come harken to the Master; He is the light and way.
Therefore, In my mind and heart, I must read her Bible every day.

I know she's now there with Him, glorying in His wondrous love,
Today is her birthday; I know she's having the party, of parties up above.
She knew where she would go, before He called her away, there.
'Cause I'd watch her reading her Bible and bend her head in Prayer.

So, mamas' Bible comes in handy, when I need to read of His sweet word.
It's like she often told me, it's the sweetest story, ever to be heard.
I'll not let dust rest upon it, I'll carefully wipe and read it every day,
And, in my Prayers, thank her, for leaving this grand old book to me this way.