Blessing on the hand of women!
     Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
     Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
     Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
     Is the hand that rules the world. . .

Woman, how divine your mission
     Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
     Always to the breath of God!
 All true trophies of the ages
     Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
     Is the hand that rules the world.

—William Ross Wallace

The goodness of a home is not dependent on wealth, or spaciousness, or beauty, or luxury. Everything depends on the Mother. —G. W. Russell

We are all mothers in special ways. Godmothers, big sisters, aunts, or simply friends with children. There are so many children already here who need love—it isn’t necessary to be a mother to experience mothering. —Sark

Mothers

Mothers are people who cook things
Like breakfast or lunch or a snack;
Dexterous people who hook things
Which button or zip up the back
Mothers are people who blow things,
Balloons and kisses and noses;
Green-thumbish people who grow things
Like ivy and puppies and roses.
Mothers are people who send things
Like letters and strawberry tarts;
Magical people who mend things
Like blue jeans and elbows and hearts.
Mothers are people who find things
Like mittens and homework and germs;
Fussbudget people who mind things
Like cusswords and snowballs and worms.
Mothers are people who sweep things
Like porches and cobwebs and rugs.
Softhearted people who keep things
Like artwork, report cards, and hugs.
Mothers are people who nurse things,
A boy or a girl or a spouse.
And all in all there are worse things
Than mothers to have in your house.

—Author Unknown

Motherhood is . . .

The purest joy the heart can feel,
The strongest bond that love can seal,
The deepest truth that live can teach,
The greatest height a soul can reach.

—Flora S. Horne