Songs of Love and Rebellion/Mary, the mother of Christ

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MARY, THE MOTHER OF CHRIST


On Golgotha's barren mountain-top two thousand years ago,
Knelt the mother of a convict keeping watch upon his wo;
Guarding, with that other Mary, in the brute mob all alone,
Fearlessly beside the dying, at the great Blasphemer's throne.

Brokenheartedly she murmured o'er and o'er the words of love,
Reaching thru the tragic darkness to the stricken form above;
Seeking with the mother-magic to give comfort to his pain,
Weeping when he cried for mercy to Authority in vain.

In the midst of all the legions, of the law in all its might,
Of the murdrous priesthood jeering, as they've ever jeered the right,
Knelt the mother of the convict, of the outcast hanging there,
Unaffrighted by the clamor, in her beautiful despair.

Far across the weary centuries I seem to see her still,
She the loving and the gentle, on that blackened, blood-wet hill;
Watching, with that other Mary, in the brute mob all alone,
Fearlessly beside the dying, at the great Blasphemer's throne.