My Mother’s Knee
My Mother’s Knee. A poem by John Stiles
I have worshipped in churches and chapels.
I have prayed in the busy street.
I have sought my God and have found Him
Where the waves of the ocean beat.
I have knelt in the silent forest.
In the shade of some ancient tree;
But the dearest of all my altars,
Was raised at my mother’s knee.
I have listened to God in His temple;
I have caught His voice in the crowd:
I have heard Him speak when the breakers
Were booming long and loud;
Where the winds play soft in the tree-tops
My Father has talked to me:
But I never have heard Him clearer
Than I did at my mother’s knee.
God make me the man of her vision
And purge me of selfishness!
God keep me true to her standards
And help me to live to bless!
God hallow the holy impress
Of the days that used to be.
And keep me a pilgrim forever To the shrine at my mother’s knee.