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Hymn/Song Information

MOTHERS' LOVE TO THEIR CHILDREN




Ye mothers, who, with growing love,
Press your dear infant to your breast,
Say, can your joys and pleasures prove
That you are now entirely blest?


Do not a thousand tender cares
By turns your restless thoughts employ?
Now rising hopes, now anxious fears,
And grief succeeds to pleasing joy!


Dear, tender babe, its lovely smiles
With what delight and joy you view!
But ev’ry pain the infant feels,
Do you not feel its suff’rings too?


What fancied, busy, cruel fear,
Rush in, and say, “the child may die!”
And nature prompts the ready tear,
And heaves the rising, deep-fetch’d sigh.


Ah! does not God our comfort mix
With greater far than equal pain;
To teach us if our hearts we fix
On earth, we fix them there in vain.


Then be our earthly joys resign’d
Since here below we cannot rest;
For earthly joys were ne’er design’d
To make our souls completely blest.

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LYRICS
Meter: 8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
Writer(s):
    Trans/Adapted:
      Dates:
      Bible Refs:
      LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
      Hymn/Song Book Year Song #
      1815# 410
      MUSIC
      Name: DUKE STREET
      Meter: 8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
      Writer(s):
        Dates: 1793
        SCORE PREVIEW
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