She said his faith in it should be
Sweet incense to her memory.
And should the scoffer in his pride
Laugh that fond faith to scorn,
And bid him cast that gift aside
That he from youth had borne,
She bade him pause and ask his breast
If he or she had loved him best.
A parent’s blessing on her son
Goes with this holy thing;
The love that would retain the one
Must to the other cling;
Remember ’t is no idle toy,
A mother’s gift!—remember, boy!
She was a woman of unusual intelligence, and a great reader; in fact, for many years she did little but read, as she lived with one or other of her children, and had no household cares. In addition to her long sojourn in New York every fall, her son always visited his mother in the summer, and his thoughtful care made every provision for her comfort.
After her husband’s death, old Mrs. Carter always led the family devotions herself, and conducted them with great unction and propriety. On one occasion the son of an old friend came out from Scotland, and went to her house for a visit. When night came, she, supposing that he was a Christian, handed him the Bible, and asked him to lead the family prayers, but he was obliged to say, “I cannot do it.” She took the Bible herself and read a chapter, then one of the old Scottish Psalms was sung, and all knelt in prayer. She prayed earnestly for her guest, and he was much impressed with the whole service. He saw the contrast between his twenty-five years of prayerless life and the earnest, faithful Christianity of this old lady, and that prayer
