By George Matthew Adams (1913)

The sweetest word in the Language of Languages is that of — Mother. There is in each letter of this word a wealth of music so Divine — there are vibrating chords of Love so Angelic — that the whole world often pays Homage to Mothers whom it honors.

Nancy Hanks — the Mother of Lincoln; Frances Willard and Jane Addams — Mothers to the Motherless; Queen Victoria — the Mother of a Nation of Mothers. You — whoever you are — your greatest Asset is your Mother. You — bankrupt, discouraged, failure-riddled, hope-wasted, heart-wrenched, self-estranged — there remains still a Day, glorious in Sunsets for you if you will but get back again, in Thought, or Heart, or Person — to your Mother.

The most wonderful Event in the History of the World was when the first Woman became — a Mother. Human Life has become a beautiful thing because the world has had its Mothers. The greatest Characters in every community are the Mothers. The greatest community is that which honors its Mothers most. The greatest men in any community are those who render the highest tribute to Motherhood.

No one ever has Surpassed or ever will Surpass the achievement of a Woman when she becomes a Mother. When did you last write to your Mother? If she has gone from you, how often do you think of her? Do you realize that all you are or ever hope to be, started back into the years when your Mother, her whole being pulsating with Pride, held you tight, and with eyes lustered and watered with Love, watched your very Breath, and kept pace, over the hours, with your faintest Heart Throbs? Think of how, all through those days she wrapped you in her Unselfishness and her Sacrifices.

The measure of your Success will be the degree of Honor you pay to your Mother and to Motherhood. How many indelicate stories would you tell if your Mother could always be present? How many mean and unjust affairs would you bring to pass if you had the eyes of your Mother looking on?

Never mind about the “Apron Strings.” There always comes a time when there are no “Apron Strings” to be tied to. And then you will long for them to come back. If ever Failure begins to press; if ever Friends begin to fade away; if ever the grand figure of your Will shall begin to bow its Power — do this — think of your Mother and live up to her ideals of you.

Kiss your Mother as you go into the fight of this day. And at its close fill her furrowed forehead with your Smiles. Ease her Cares. Write to her though business go to Smash. Go and see her often though it takes you across the Globe. Let her Living Presence keep you Courageous.

And if she has gone from you let her Memory Guide and Inspire you as once you Guided and Inspired her Faith.

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