It’s just a humble wooden chair
Which is precious to me,
Because Mother rocked us all
In this chair as children wee.
I can still hear her singing:
“I Need Thee Every Hour,”
And “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior,”
Old hymns that still have power.
‘Twas in this very rocking chair
That as an infant I was fed,
‘Twas here that I was rocked to sleep
Before being put to bed.
My brothers and my sisters
Were all rocked, each in turn,
And I would rock my dolly
And from Mom’s example learn.
I, too, rocked our children
When they were rocked and fed
I, too, sang favorite hymns to them
Then tucked them into bed.
Oh, what cherished memories
I pray that it won’t be long
Til I can rock grandchildren
While singing them a song.
Jan Lutz © 2007