If ever a woman loved a son,
My own dear Mother was the one,

She prayed "Don't let my husband die,"
To God while waiting, childless, I

Recall her tale of agony
While at Death's door, my Father he

Lay 'neath the surgeon's knife so long,
She heard afar the robin's song,

He sings of life so sweet and good,
She prayed again for motherhood,

The doctors gave him up for dead,
I've seen the scar, they must have said,

"Just bind him up with gauze for now,
If he survives we won't know how,"

But his is life to take or give
Who made us all -- God let him live,

My Father put to rest her fears
And lived for more than twenty years,

Not only gave her life new joy,
Begetting me, a baby boy,

But heaven helped before she knew,
And blessed her not with one, but two.

by D. Edgar Murray