In a lonely churchyard, many miles away,
Lies your dear old mother, ’neath the cold, cold clay;
Mem’ries oft returning of her tears and sighs,
If you love your mother, meet her in the skies.

Refrain

Listen to her pleading, “Wand’ring boy, come home,”
Lovingly, entreating, do not longer roam;
Let your manhood waken, heav’nward lift your eyes;
If you love your mother, meet her in the skies.

Now the old home, vacant, has no charms for you;
One dear form is absent, mother, kind and true;
Evermore she dwells where pleasure never dies,
If you love your mother, meet her in the skies.

Refrain

Now in true repentance to the Savior flee,
He Who pardoned mother, mercy has for thee;
Now He waits to comfort, He will not despise,
If you love your mother, meet her in the skies.

Refrain