Motherhood is priced of God, at price no man may dare to lessen or misunderstand.

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.

Find me the men on earth who care Enough for faith or creed today To seek the barren wilderness For simple liberty to pray

Who waits until the wind shall silent keep, Will never find the ready hour to sow

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again In babyhood.

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.