I stood by the side
Of her hospital bed,
And from my small testament
A passage I read.

The Lord is My Shepherd
I started to read,
And I heard a weak voice
Trying hard to repeat.

I took her small hand
And held it so tight,
And prayed for my Mother
That her pain would take flight.

I prayed, Dear Blessed Jesus
How I thank Thee today
For our dear precious Mother
Who has asked me to pray.

Please reach down and touch her
With Your Master's own Hand,
and lift her so gently
To Your great Promised Land.

The Land we call Beulah
Where streets are pure gold,
In her Mansion forever
Where she'll never grow old!

~ Donna Lilly Marcus ~

This poem was written for my dear mother shortly before she passed away. I miss you Mother, be at peace. I love you.