Concealed itself ’mid golden rays, That from God’s holy shrine Fall as night-dews or summer-showers, Refreshing and divine. We love the sunbeams, mother! What beauties they awake, When first from the clear eastern sky All gloriously they break. Oh! how the flowers delight to feel Their warm kiss from above, And brighten ’neath it as the heart Beneath a kiss of love; And merrier dance the waters, When every ripple shows A sparkling crown like diamond gems, As carelessly it flows. But wake, my mother! wake and list The strain I have to sing; ’Tis not of these glad sunbeams, Though joy around they fling, But of a sunbeam brighter, That cheers me all the while, And never knoweth change, mother! The sunbeam of thy smile. How often, oh! how often, When my heart feels lone and drear, Its thrilling presence banishes All thoughts of grief or fear. How often, often, mother! When I’ve mourned, but scarce knew why, I’ve hailed its light, and soon forgot The tear-drop and the sigh. For thoughts of sadness will intrude Upon my soul oft times; They come and bid me ne’er forget That there are purer climes. And still I trust its radiance May fall upon my soul Through all my future hours and days, As onward still they roll. And, mother! oh, my mother! When this dream of life is o’er, When God calls back his wandering child To Heaven’s unclouded shore, Amid the pure and golden beams That fall around me there, The gentle stir of angel wings And harp-strings softly fair, I’ll not forget thee, mother! Though fleeting years have flown, But come sometimes and watch o’er thee When thou art all alone. Thou wilt not see me, but I’ll come Upon the summer breeze, Or hidden lay amid the shade Of young, green summer leaves, And whisper in thine ear, mother, Of what I feel too well, But words of mortal dialect Can never, never tell. I’ll whisper of my fervent love, And breathe low thanks to thee For all the tenderness and care Thou hast bestowed on me.