PRINTS OF ELBOWS ON MY BED

I was but a youth and thoughtless,

As all youths are apt to be;

Though I had a Christian mother

Who had taught me carefully.


There came a time when pleasure

Of the world came to allure,

And I no more sought the guidance

Of her love so good and pure.


Her tender admonitions fell

But lightly on my ear,

And for the gentle warnings

I felt an inward sneer.


But Mother would not yield her boy

To Satan's sinful sway,

And though I spurned her counsel

She knew a better way.


She made my room an altar,

A place of secret prayer,

And there she took her burden

And left it in His care.


And morning, noon and evening

By that humble bedside low,

She sought the aid of Him who

Understands a mother's woe.


And I went my way unheeding,

Careless of the life I led,

Until one day I noticed

Prints of elbows on my bed.


Then I saw that she had been there

Praying for her wayward boy,

Who for love of worldly pleasure

Would her peace of mind destroy.


Long the conflict raged within me,

Sin against my Mother's prayers,

Sin must yield - for Mother never

While she daily met Him there.


And her constant love and patience

Were like coals upon my head,

Together with the imprints

Of her elbows on my bed.


And so at last the fight was won,

And I to Christ was led,

And Mother's prayers were answered

By her elbows on my bed.


-- Author Unknown