I am their mother, I’m the one;
Who leads and guides and carries on.
Strong for the task are these, my arms;
To comfort, shelter, soothe and calm.
Alert, my eyes to see their need;
Busy, my hands to clothe and feed.
With confidence my voice is heard;
I teach and train them with wise words.
But I, their mother, am God’s child;
I follow after him, my guide.
I seek protection in his care;
I need the comfort I find there.
I fail to see the way ahead;
My helpless hands must pray instead.
I have for them no single thing;
I did not first receive from him.
So let me mother faithfully;
There can no greater honour be:
To be a vessel of your grace;
To generations of our race.
May I reflect your image true;
Speak only what I learn from you.
One thing I ask of you, my Lord:
That children of mine become children of yours.
