A Mother's love is something
That no one can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
And of sacrifice and pain.
It is endless and unselfish
And enduring come what may,
For nothing can destroy it
Or take that love away.
It is patient and forgiving
When all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
Even though the heart is breaking.
It believes beyond believing
When the world around condemns,
And it grows with all the beauty
Of the rarest, brightest gems.
It is far beyond defining,
It defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
Like the mystery of creation.
A many-splendored miracle
Man cannot understand.
And another wondrous evidence
Of God's tender, guiding hand.
By Helen Steiner Rice
Painting by Helen Allingham