COMPREHENSION — A MOTHER'S SONG

I KNOW HOW MARY FELT, THERE IN THE HAY,

MY LITTLE SON WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY!

I know, as she bent tenderly above Him,

She did not think of majesty or power,

For he was hers — and she was there to love Him!

His hands, as pinkly tinted as a flower,

Seemed all too small to carve His deathless story —

What though a star gleamed glorious to guide

Him?

She snatched Him to her breast as if to hide Him

From harm, and fear, and even — yes, from glory.

And when the wise men came to give their treasure,

She smiled at them as proud as any queen;

She scarcely saw the jewels in countless measure,

The gold that gleamed; her gaze was far, serene,

Upon the hills where shepherds watched, alone.

She did not think of crosses or of dying,

For He was just a drowsy baby, lying

Wrapped in her love — A baby — all her own!

I KNOW HOW MARY FELT, THERE IN THE HAY,

MY LITTLE SON WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY!