Sleeping Child
All creation ached to see the Word when He leapt down,
When God eternal, visibly, cast off his heavenly crown.
In the cold of night He came, as starlight blazed and filled the skies,
He left that place beneath her heart, and looked into her eyes.
Her fiat's Fruit, her yes's Son, her blessed womb had borne,
Yet death's dark shadow lingered close, as swaddling clothes were shorn.
For as the humble came to set themselves beneath His gaze,
She knew not all who sought Him out would offer joyful praise.
Could she see through tears of joy and mingled sorrow twain?
Divested from her womb, she now must lay him down again?
But to evince and show to all her perfect love of God,
She laid her Son thus shrouded by for shepherds, kings, to laud.
But when his eyes grew heavy, and He knew an infant's rest,
She kissed his head and gently held her son against her breast.
In sorrow hence she'll hold Him thus when all is reconciled,
But joy pierced first His mother's heart, held by her sleeping Child.
~May the Child Jesus always find in your heart a welcome place to rest.
Merry Christmas and God Bless,
Mandie DeVries, Director of Religious Education
