I Sing A Maid

I sing a maid of tender years
To whom an angel came,
And knelt, as to a mighty queen,
And bowed his wings of flame;
A nation's hope in her reply,
This maid of matchless grace;
For God's own son became her child,
And she his resting place.

She watched him grow to manhood's strength
To meet his destiny,
And when the danger of his truth
Brought him to Calvary,
She stood by him all powerless
To ease his dying pain,
'Til in the darkest hour of all,
She held her Son again.

And if the song had ended then,
Our eyes would fill with tears,
But ah! The song had just begun
To echo down the years!
Now lift your voices, hearts and souls,
To sing with one accord
To honor Mary, Mother of
The Christ, the Risen Lord!

Words: M.D. Ridge (1987)
Music: THE FLIGHT OF THE EARLS 14.14.14.14 Traditional Celtic melody

See my other blog postings in the Contemporary Catholic series.