Who
is my mother, or my brethren?

He spake, and look'd on them who sat around,
With a meek smile of pity blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleam'd from human face,-
As when a sun-beam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;
And with that look of love he said, Behold
My mother and my brethren; for I say,
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,
He is my brother, sister, mother, all.