Sunday, December 13, 2015

A Different Look at Mary

It was not a silent night.
There was blood on the ground.
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town.

And the stable was not clean.
And the cobblestones were cold.
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold.

It was a labor of pain.
It was a cold sky above.
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love.

Noble Joseph at her side.
Callused hands and weary eyes.
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night.

So he held her and he prayed.
Shafts of moonlight on his face.
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move.

It was a labor of pain.
It was a cold sky above.
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love.
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love.  
Labor of Love
Andrew Peterson

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