Thursday, 8 December 2016

The Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Real Presence

The Angel smiled and told me not to fear,
'Though mountains melt like wax when God draws near.
I could not fear His coming, but the day
The priests conspired and stole my Son away.

An old saint in the Temple prophesied
The sword that plunged, the moment that He died,
Into my aching mother's heart: the cost
Of Love, for Love was born to save the lost.

Ah, Love! He was the World's, but He was mine.
My Saviour, yes, but all His Blood divine
Poured out to quench a fallen race athirst
Had truly flowed through only my heart first.

The handmaid of the Lord, I now behold
The Lamb of God, slain, lifeless, pale and cold.
I'm offered one last motherly caress,
And left, to bear the weight of nothingness.

Oh, wasted Life! And not just His, for all
Our lives lie dormant, stifled by the Fall.
What loves could He have quickened with a glance,
Had we not crucified our only chance.

But now a Sunday sunrise breaks the night!
The gaze that magnifies my soul shines bright
Once more, for ever, God in Flesh and Blood!
And all returns to life, and life is good.