CHORUS:

We shall all meet again on the great judgment morning, The books will be opened, the roll will be called; How sad it will be if forever we're parted, And shut out of heaven for not loving G.o.d!

That mother of yours has gone over death's river.

You promised you'd meet her as you knelt by her bed, While the death sweat rolled from her and fell on the pillow; Her memory still speaketh, although she is dead.

You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered, The arms that embraced you are mouldering away; As you stood by her grave and dropped tears on her coffin, With a vow that you'd meet her, you walked slowly away.

My brother, my sister, get ready to meet her, The life that you now live is ebbing away, But the life that's to come lasts forever and ever, May we meet ne'er to part on that great judgment day!

MY NAME IN MOTHER'S PRAYER.

'Twas in the days of careless youth When life seemed fair and bright, When ne'er a tear, nor scarce a fear O'er cast my day or night.

'Twas in the quiet even tide, I pa.s.sed her kneeling there, When just one word I tho't I heard My name, my name in mother's prayer.

CHORUS.

My name, my name in mother's prayer, My name in mother's prayer!

There is just one word I tho't I heard My name, my name in mother's prayer.

I wandered on, but heeded not G.o.d's oft repeated call, To turn from sin and live for Him, And trust to Him my all in all.

But when at last convinced of sin, I sank in deep despair, My soul awoke when memory spoke My name, my name in mother's prayer.

That kneeling form, those folded hands, Have vanished in the dust; But still for me for years shall be The memory of her trust.

And when I cross dark Jordan's tide, I'll meet her over there; I'll praise the Lord, and bless the word, That word, my name in mother's prayer!

OVER THERE.

Come all ye scattered race, And the Savior's love embrace; You may see His smiling face Yet with care; He is on the giving hand, Will you come at His command, Will you with the angels stand Over there?

CHORUS.

Over there, over there, There's a land of pure delight Over there, We will lay our burdens down, And at Jesus' feet sit down, And we'll wear a starry crown, Over there.

Yes, He went to Calvary, And they nailed Him to the tree, That poor sinners such as we, He might spare; From the bitter pangs of death, He does with His dying breath, Seal an everlasting rest, Over there.

G.o.d has placed us on the field, To the foe we will not yield, On our tower we will stand, By His care.

Wave the Christian's banner high, Hold it up until we die, And go home to live with G.o.d, Over there.

THIS WAY.

Our life is like a stormy sea, Swept by the gales of sin and grief, While on the windward and the lee, Hangs heavy clouds of unbelief; Out o'er the deep a call we hear, Like harbor bell's inviting voice; It tells the lost that hope is near, And bids the trembling soul rejoice.

CHORUS.

This way, this way, O heart oppressed, So long by storm and tempest driven, This way, this way, lo here is rest, Rings out the harbor bell of heaven.

O tempted one, look up, be strong; The promise of the Lord is sure, That they shall sing the victor's song, Who faithful to the end endure; G.o.d's Holy Spirit comes to thee, Of this abiding love to tell; To blissful port, o'er stormy sea, Calls heaven's inviting harbor bell.

MORE TO BE PITIED THAN CENSURED.

There's an old concert hall on the bowery Where were a.s.sembled together one night A crowd of young fellows carousing, To them life looked happy and bright.

At the very next table was seated A girl that had fallen to shame; How the fellows they laughed at her downfall, When they heard an old woman exclaim:

CHORUS.

"She's more to be pitied than censured, She is more to be loved than despised; She is only a poor girl who ventured On life's rugged path ill-advised.

Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter, Don't laugh at her shame and downfall, Just pause for a moment--consider, That sin was the cause of it all."

There's an old-fashioned church 'round the corner, Where the neighbors all gathered one day, To listen to words from the parson, For a soul that had just pa.s.sed away.

'Twas the same wayward girl from the bowery, Who a life of adventure had led; Did the parson then laugh at her downfall?

No, he prayed and wept as he said:

SOME MOTHER'S CHILD.

At home or away, in the alley or street, Wherever I chance in this wide world to meet A girl that is thoughtless or a boy that is wild, My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child.

CHORUS.

Some mother's child, Some mother's child, My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child.

And when I see those o'er whom long years have rolled, Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spirits are cold; Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled, A voice whispers sadly: It is some mother's child.

No matter how far from right she hath strayed; No matter what inroad dishonor hath made; No matter what elements cankered the pearl; Though tarnished and sullied, she is some mother's girl.

No matter how deep he is sunken in sin; No matter how much he is shunned by his kin; No matter how low is his standard of joy; Though guilty and loathsome; he is some mother's boy.

That head hath been pillowed on tenderest breast; That form hath been wept o'er, those lips have been pressed; That soul hath been prayed for in tones sweet and mild; For her sake deal gently with some mother's child.

_Used by permission of Charlie D. Tillman, owner of copyright._

JUST TELL MY MOTHER.

'Twas in a Gospel Mission, in a distant western town, The meeting there that night had just begun, When in came a poor lost sinner who by sin had been cast down, Thinking perhaps that he might have some fun; But as he heard of Jesus' love, of pardon full and free, He sought it and the wanderer ceased to roam.

And going to his room that night, his heart all filled with joy, He wrote a letter to the folks at home.

CHORUS.

Just tell my dear old mother, my wandering days are o'er, Just tell her that my sins are all forgiven, Just tell her that if on earth we chance to meet no more, Her prayers are answered and we'll meet in Heaven.

His mother got the message as she lay at death's dark door, Which told her of her boy so far away, How his sins were all forgiven and wandering days were o'er, And that his feet were on the narrow way.

Her heart was filled with gladness, as it had not been for years, Her dear old face was all lit up with joy, As on her dying pillow she said amid her tears, G.o.d bless and keep my precious darling boy.