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MESSAGES FROM MOTHER 
 
 THE LITTLE POEMS 
 
 OF ADELINE DRINKWATER 
 
 MORTON 
 
 PRIVATELY 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR HER FAMILY BY 
 
 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
Copyright, 1913 
 By Mary E. G. Morton 
 
THIS LITTLE BOOK IS A GIFT OF LOVE 
 TO THE MEMORY OF THE BEST OF PAR- 
 ENTS. IT IS CHARACTERISTIC OF MOTHER 
 THAT SHE SHOULD HAVE FURNISHED THE 
 MATERIAL FOR ITS COMPOSITION. THE 
 VERSES WERE ALL WRITTEN UNDER THE 
 PRESSURE OF SORROW, IN THE EVENING 
 OF HER LIFE, THE FIRST AT THE AGE OF 
 SIXTY-FIVE, THE LAST, AT EIGHTY-FIVE. 
 BUT THE UNDERLYING NOTE OF FAITH 
 AND HOPE IS SO STRONG THAT HER CHIL- 
 DREN PLACE THEM IN THE HANDS OF 
 FRIENDS WITH THE DESIRE THAT THEY 
 MAY BEAR TO THEM, AS IF FROM HER 
 NEW LIFE, THE SAME MESSAGE OF COM- 
 FORT THAT THEY HAVE BROUGHT TO US. 
 
 SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA 
 
 NOVEMBER FOURTEEN, NINETEEN 
 
 HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN 
 
 232831 
 

MESSAGES FROM MOTHER 
 
WHEN to me the veil is lifted, 
 And my captive soul is free 
 From the fetters that have bound it 
 To this form of earthly clay; 
 
 Will my vision be unclouded, 
 Will, unfolded to my view, 
 There be forms of dear departed 
 Loves of this earth to renew? 
 
 Will my dear, my blessed children 
 Come to meet my spirit here, 
 Hence to guide me with a welcome 
 Full of joy and love sincere? 
 
 To the blessed world of spirits, 
 Where no pain or strife is found, 
 Where all harbors and all havens 
 Freighted with good will abound; 
 
 To that boundless world of spirits, 
 To that promised, happy land 
 Where the soul its own inherits, 
 Where no barriers can stand. 
 
Where no wealth of golden treasure 
 Can deny the spirit's right 
 There to drink in without measure 
 Blessings of eternal light; 
 
 Light to guide and light to counsel 
 Any erring souls, astray, 
 Who in darkness may have lingered, 
 Searching for the light of day. 
 
 In every spirit, undeveloped, 
 There are germs of Truth and Love; 
 If we work for their unfoldment, 
 We reap blessings from above. 
 
 Thus our spirit, while progressing 
 In this work so beauteous bright, 
 With its freight of richest blessing 
 Shining as a beacon light; 
 
 Finds its mission and fulfillment 
 In these fields of living light, 
 And pure joy in the attainment 
 Of the Truth, divinely bright. 
 
 April Twenty-One, 
 Eighteen Hundred and 
 Ninety-Two 
 
CAN doubt arise within my soul 
 What is my destiny, 
 When to my vision oft at night 
 There comes a lovely, radiant light 
 And breathes a prayer to me? 
 
 These bodies bright, so full of light, 
 Can from no evil come; 
 I bid them welcome to my side 
 They come, and often there abide 
 Till tears my eyes bedim. 
 
 I know they are my children dear, 
 I'm sure it must be so; 
 I hear their breathings in my ear, 
 And sometimes think I faintly hear 
 Sounds that are sweet and low. 
 
 Oh, Father, God, Oh hear my prayer; 
 In loving trust I come; 
 Give me the faith and strength to bear 
 Affliction's weight and Sorrow's care 
 Till I my task have done. 
 
WHY should I murmur or repine 
 When blessings have my pathway strew'd; 
 Will this rebellious heart of mine 
 With meekness never be subdued? 
 
 Our Father, God, to Thee I pray 
 For resignation to Thy will; 
 Let Love and Truth my conflict stay 
 And bid my troubled soul be still. 
 
 And tears, a solace to my grief, 
 Which down my cheeks unbidden roll, 
 Though oft they bring my heart relief, 
 They hold dominion o'er my soul. 
 
 Then nerve my heart in virtue's strength, 
 That I, to every impulse weak, 
 Resist obedience, till at length 
 Triumphant soul its empire seek. 
 
 Eighteen Hundred and 
 Ninety- Fire 
 
O, WHY, with this inspired light 
 Op'ning our paths which lead to 
 
 every good, 
 Filling our hearts with hope and 
 
 promise bright, 
 Can we not stand where our dear 
 
 Savior stood? 
 
 He came to show us how to live, 
 That living right, we might know 
 
 how to die; 
 
 Of his instructions he did freely give 
 That we unheeding might not pass 
 
 them by. 
 
 Could his example we but imitate, 
 And live the blessed truths which he 
 
 did teach, 
 Soon we should rise to his own high 
 
 estate, 
 Soon find his virtues all within our 
 
 reach. 
 
 November, 
 
 Eighteen Hundred and 
 
 Ninety-Five 
 
WAITING 
 
 WAITING for the final summons 
 That will bear my soul away 
 To that home of life eternal 
 Brighter than the brightest day. 
 
 Earthly ties will then be severed, 
 And the silver cord be loosed, 
 And the golden bowl be broken 
 When my spirit is released. 
 
 In that home of life eternal 
 There's a house not built with hands; 
 In it there are many mansions 
 In his wisdom God has planned. 
 
 In that blessed home immortal 
 Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard 
 Of the things for those who love him 
 God has prepared. 
 
 Then we shall be so delighted 
 When we reach our heavenly home; 
 There with dear ones reunited, 
 Greater happiness could not come. 
 
Let us all then be contented 
 With whate'er our lot may be, 
 Ever faithful to the precepts 
 Jesus taught and gave us free. 
 
 This poem was written at the 
 age of eighty-five years. 
 Nineteen Hundred 
 and Twelve 
 



 
 
 
 
282831 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
BERKELEY *******' 
 
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