When Mother First Taught Me to Pray.
Copyright, 1892, by Willis Woodward & Co.
Words and Music by Paul Dresser.
There's a mem'ry that is living in my heart since childhood's days.
Those days of which we all so love to tell;
Of home, of father, mother, brother, sisters near and dear,
And Rover, too, that dog we loved so well.
But there is one impression that was left upon my heart.
It comes to me at closing of the day;
'Tis the picture of a mother, and a boy kneels by her side.
With folded hands she teaches him to pray.
"Our Father, dear in Heav'n," was the sweetest pray'r of all,
And after her those loving words I say:
"Give us, this day, our daily bread,"
How I remember well When mother, dear, first taught me how to pray!
How often on it Winter's eve I've nestled by her side,
And listened to her tales with childish glee!
About the Saviour in the olden time, And how he said,
"Oh, suffer little ones come unto me."
She taught me many lessons in those far off boyhood's days,
And as I'd pray with her on bended knee;
She'd say, "Forgive your enemies, lad, while you're kneeling there!"
That's one thing that my mother taught to me.- Chorus.