A Gift of Love

A little Babe, so pure, so new,
So innocent and sweet,
Behold His mother hug Him close
And kiss His little feet.

For He is God omnipotent
Born in a simple creche,
The Word submitted to His will
And joyfully made flesh.

O Mother, hold Him not too close,
For He has come to die,
O Mother, ours is not to doubt
Nor ever question why.

She sees the kings and shepherds come
And bow in meek accord,
And knows a consolation
That they bend before their Lord.

Once more she hugs Him to her breast,
Her little, living God,
And all in adoration kneel
To offer Him their laud.

And yet she knows in dread and fear
That not so long from now,
She’ll hug Him once more to her breast
And kiss His wounded brow.

And all the world will turn from Him,
The King dethroned by men,
Yet she will press Him to her heart,
And kiss His feet again.

And tears will stain His pallid cheeks
That fall from out her eyes,
And once more she will give Him up,
For God is ever wise.

But now she turns to gaze upon
His bright and loving face,
Oh, that the world would come to know
And run to His embrace!

Yet not her will, nor any man’s
But God’s alone be done,
She smiles and shares Him with the rest,
God’s sole-begotten Son.

~