The angel came and it was done,
Man’s hope and joy within my womb.
Among the beasts was born my son,
Because with men there was no room.
And still, there is no room for Him,
Except upon this cross so grim.
Once, long ago, they said to me
That swords would pierce my heart someday.
I knew not when that time would be
But only that I must obey.
But O, my God, what is this now
That thorns should stab His precious brow?
What is this cross of splintered wood
That stands upon my wrenching heart?
In these men’s hearts, where is the good
For which He came here to impart?
What is this rage against my child
Whose lovely form they have defiled?
Now once more to my breast I hold
That babe who shone with golden light –
Now bloodless, lifeless, grey and cold,
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