A MOTHER'S PRAYER

This poem was written by Lt. Col. John Bramblet Beall during his time in the Civil War. His mother had seven sons to serve in this conflict of brother against brother and state against state. It is included in his book "In Barrack and Field", a book of prose and poetry. It took me about 6 years to find any texts from this book. John was the brother of my great-grandfather, Captain Noble Newnan Beall.

A MOTHER'S PRAYER


On the border of a valley where the Tallapoosa glides,
Where the placid trails of nature, In the forest shadow hides
There, by wood and glen surrounded, Deeply hidden in the shade,
A mixtic homestead, ancient founded, Rears its unpretending head.

Peacefully, the night if closing, Closing softly o'er the scene,
And saddened heart's in peace reposing, Dreams of joys that once have been.
But in that wood-embowered cot, One there is, who dreameth not;
Unto the widow's God a prayer, Is rising through the silent air;
Angels pinions bear it heavenward, Angels hands record it there.

"O God, thou hast been good to me, And every blessing thou hast given;
My love, my life I owe to thee, But grant me this, O God of heaven:
That be my young, my wayward son, Now gone to mingle in the fight,
The struggle of his life begun, May ever tread the path of right.

Guide him, O God, in honor's way, Shield him from the treacherous foe.
And teach his erring heart to pray, And look to thee in every woe.
To thee, O God of Israel's king, Son of the holy virgin bride,
O bend his early faith to cling, And let his hope in thee abide.

And O forgive, forgive the pang That rends a mother's anxious heart!
Thou knowest the anguish throes that hang, Around the hour when loved ones part."

Thus she prays, and faith, new-springing, Bears the burden of her soul
Up to Him whose praise, ringing, Sound while endless ages roll.