My Mother’s Bible by George Pope Morris This book is all that’s left me now! Tears will unbidden start, With faltering lip and throbbing brow I press it to my heart. For many generations past, Here is our family tree; My mother’s hands this Bible clasped, She, dying, gave it me. My father read this holy book To brothers, sisters dear; How calm was my poor mother’s look Who learned God’s word to hear! Her angel face, I see it yet! What vivid memories come! Again that little group is met Within the halls of home! Thou truest friend man ever knew, Thy constancy I ’ve tried; Where all were false I found thee true, My counselor and guide. The mines of earth no treasures give That could this volume buy; In teaching me the way to live, It taught me how to die. TRIPLES with EMMA