When the Christmas chimes with its holy rhymes Ring out o’er the frosty plain, Then I sit, and sigh for the “Sweet bye and bye”⁠— But the answer comes, “Mother in vain.” Each one of us, children, have gone forth To fight out life’s battles alone; And the future must prove if your labor of love, Has, like bread on the waters, been thrown.

So the twilight comes⁠—and the fire burns low⁠— And the day is ebbing fast⁠— Soon the merry chimes and the hallowed rhymes Will be numbered with the Past. But with hopeful eyes I’ll scan the skies, Perchance, ere next Christmas-tide, Will my children come to their own dear home, And their place at mother’s side.