
She had held Him in her womb, She had sought Him in the tomb; She made Him a cradle bed, Kissed her Savior’s infant head. Mary was her maiden name, She would bear for Him her shame; Yet the angels bore the news, ‘Twas this woman God did choose. Blessed of women she would be, Though He’d hang upon a tree. He had come, God’s gift to men, Righteous payment for their sin. Godly, young, His mother, pure, Yet, a sinner to be sure. Mary loudly praised her Lord, Trusted in His precious Word. Faithful men down through the ages, Read of her on holy pages. Joy—His birth—brought to her heart, Pain—His death—tore her apart. From the rugged cross He spake, “To your home the woman take.” Spoken to the man called John, Loved by Jesus as His own. Story: one of love and grace, In our hearts a sacred place; On and on the years unfold, Sweetest story ever told. Jesus came from heav’n above, Sent by God on wings of love; Through a virgin young and fair, None to Mary would compare. Yet, a vessel, holy such, Through her words has taught us much; “God, my Savior,” she confessed, She, a sinner, specially blessed! Anthony Slutz
“And the angel came in unto her, and said, ‘Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with the: blessed art thou among women.’” (Luke 1:28)
Ellen and I wish you all a truly merry Christmas!
WSuch an appropriate poem for today. Just wish all those who try to make Mary our intercesor could read this and see her as she really is today. Thank God for her willingness to be used by God to bring us a Saviour.
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