I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me.

Hear, O sons and daughters of time, the tender yet mighty words of Abraham Lincoln, who once declared: “I remember my mother’s prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life.” These words, born from the lips of a man who would one day guide a nation through its darkest trial, remind us that the unseen strength of a mother’s faith can shape the destiny of nations. For in every great man or woman, there is often a foundation laid not by power, nor by wealth, but by the quiet, unwavering devotion of a parent’s heart.

The origin of this saying lies in Lincoln’s own childhood, marked not by riches but by hardship and simplicity. His mother, Nancy Hanks Lincoln, died when he was still young, yet her influence never faded. She was a woman of faith, and though her days on earth were few, her prayers continued to echo in her son’s conscience, long after her voice was silenced. Lincoln, who bore the weight of civil war, who agonized over the fate of millions, carried within him the memory of his mother’s whispered petitions to heaven. This was his unseen inheritance, more precious than land or gold.

Consider the power of a mother’s prayers. They are not idle words, but seeds cast into the soil of the soul. They take root unseen, watered by memory, nourished by love, and one day, they blossom in the hour of greatest need. To Lincoln, his mother’s faith was not a relic of childhood—it was a living presence, clinging to him, guiding him, restraining him from despair, lifting him when his burdens grew unbearable. Such is the unseen strength of prayer: it binds across time, transcends death, and becomes a shield for those it covers.

History gives us proof of this sacred truth. Think of Saint Augustine, the great thinker of the early church. In his youth, he was wild and rebellious, chasing pleasures and scorning faith. Yet his mother, Monica, prayed ceaselessly for his conversion. Though years passed, her prayers followed him like a shadow until at last his heart turned, and he became one of the greatest lights of Christendom. Augustine himself confessed that it was his mother’s faith that brought him home. So too with Lincoln: the prayers of a mother bore fruit in the shaping of a man who would carry the fate of a nation.

The lesson is profound: never underestimate the power of intercession, nor the influence of faith passed down from parent to child. Words spoken in love and devotion may seem to vanish, but they linger in the soul. A child may wander far, yet the memory of a parent’s counsel, the sound of a mother’s prayers, will return in times of trial. These prayers are like lanterns hung in the corridors of memory, casting light long after the one who lit them is gone.

And what must we, O listeners, take from this? If you are a parent, pray for your children, and never cease, for your prayers may outlive you and guard them in their darkest hours. If you are a child, remember the faith of your parents, and let it guide you when the road is uncertain. Do not despise the small acts of devotion, for they may be the strongest legacy you will ever inherit.

So let the words of Lincoln be inscribed upon your heart: “They have clung to me all my life.” For in these words we see that greatness is not born in solitude, but in the hidden labor of love. The prayers of the humble, whispered in kitchens, in fields, in the silence of night, have the power to echo across history. Cherish them, live by them, and let them guide you, as they once guided a president who bore the burden of a nation upon his shoulders.