The Ugly Truth


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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