Conceived in sin, to sorrow born, Unwelcome here on earth, The shadows of a life forlorn Hung gloomy o'er my birth. A mother's heart oppressed with grief, A father's wicked spleen, Who cursed my faint and gasping breath, Combine to paint the scene. But life held on its tender thread, Days unexpected grew To weeks, and still he lived-- Why, Heaven only knew. He lived, though life was bitter gain, His youth a flood of tears, His body doomed to cruel pain, His mind to nervous fears. In contrast with this paternal attitude, however, was the constancy of a true-hearted mother. Blessed with this and endowed with indelible memories of a mother's devotion, what child growing up to cope with life's obstacles may not, after all, hold a chance of succeeding, however handicapped otherwise? If ever any planting bears fruit in the human breast, or becomes a latent force tending to guide one steadily through life's dangerous rapids, it is that of a mother's love. Especially is this true of the love of a _Christian_ mother, coupled with her prayers. Mrs. Warner was an excellent woman. Her patient and gentle bearing under disturbing conditions, her disposition to make the best of disappointment and discouragement, left an impress, not only upon the family, but upon the neighborhood. Her kindness is referred to in two other stanzas of the poem Innocence: If angels blessed his thorny path, It may be said in truth, But two e'er showed their smiling face In all his suffering youth. One was his mother, ever kind, A blessed providence; The other, pure and lovely friend, Was angel Innocence. It has been true generally that great men have first had great mothers. But what is a mother's greatness, after all, but simple, unalloyed, Christian motherliness? "I should have become an atheist but for one recollection, and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers and cause me on my knees to say, 'Our Father, who art in heaven.'"--_John Randolph._ [Illustration: Parents of D. S. Warner. The father holds a whisky-glass] [Illustration: Mother of D. S. Warner] "All I am, all I hope to be, I owe to my angel mother--blessings on her memory! I remember my mother's prayers. They have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life."--_Lincoln._ "If my mother could rise in the dead of the night and pray for my recovery from sickness, my life must be worth something. I then and there resolved to prove myself worthy of my mother's prayers."--_Garfield._