My Mothers Hand Is On My Brow

My mother's hand is on my brow,

Her gentle voice is pleading now;

Across the years so marred by sin

What memories of love steal in!

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O mother, when I think of thee,

'Tis but a step to Calvary;

Thy gentle hand upon my brow

Is leading me to Jesus now.

Once more I see that look of pain,

The anguish in those eyes again;

My heart is sad, for well I know

My sin has caused this bitter woe.

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While others scorned me in their pride

She gently drew me to her side;

When all the world has turned away,

My mother stood by me that day.

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The memories of bygone years,

My mother's love, my mother's tears,

The tho't of all her constant care

Doth bring the answer to her prayer.

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I'm coming home, by sin beset,

For Jesus loves me even yet;

My mother's love brings home to me

The greater love of Calvary.

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