No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours;
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.

CHORUS.--

"Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again, as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more,
Haply, will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep."

CHORUS.--

Never was the sweet and touching song sung under more suggestive
circumstances, and never was it received into more receptive hearts.
The voice of the repentant vagabond was of the finest quality, a pure,
resonant tenor, and, through the splendid avenue of expression which
the words and music of the song made for his emotions, he poured his
soul forth without restraint. The effect of his effort was what would
be expected when the character of the audience and the occasion is
considered. Many an eye was wet with tears, and the voices that took
up the refrain here and there trembled with emotion. The Old Trapper,
himself, was not unmoved, for, as the song closed, after a few moments
of silence, he said:--

"Ye sang the song well, Shanty Jim, and many be the memories it has
stirred in the breasts of us all. May yer home-comin' be as happy as
was the boy's we read of in the Scriptur', although I never could
conceit why the mother was not there to go forth to meet him, and fall
on his neck with the father, and ef I'd had the writin' of it I'd had
the mother git to him a leetle fust, and hers the fust arms that was
thrown round his neck, for that would be more nateral, as I conceit.
And I sartinly trust, as do all of us here, that ye will find mother
and father both waitin' and watchin' for ye when the curve of the
trail brings ye in the sight of the cabin. And ye sartinly will take
with ye the good wishes of us all. Come, take the chair here by my
side, and we will all talk as we eat; aye, and sing, too, for this be
Christmas, and Christmas be the time for eatin' and singin', but,
above all else, for forgivin' and forgittin'." At the word the happy
feasters went on with the f