From the recording We Are Born Blind

I can only begin to imagine what Mary felt as she held the baby whom the Angel foretold - and Kings worshiped. Thirty three years later she would stand at the foot of the cross as Soldiers drove spikes through his hands and feet, and lifted Him up on the cross. Once again, when it was finished, she held him as only a Mother can - rocking and weeping for her little baby boy! But then again, what joy she must have had when in three days she returned to his grave only to find it empty - for he had risen.

Lyrics

MARY HOLD YOUR BABY TIGHT

Mary hold your baby tight
Keep him safe and warm
Wrap him in linen so soft and white
Keep him from all harm
In a manger lay him down, in
Swaddling clothes now gently bound
Born to wear his Father’s crown
Cradled gently there in your arms

Wise men come from far away
Bearing gifts of gold
Searching for the little babe
Prophesied of old
Stars in heaven light their way
Angles sing and give him praise
For Jesus Christ is born on this day
To bring us back into the fold

Gently lay his body down
Golden hay make him a crown
Shelter him beneath the clouds
In Bethlehem, king David’s town

Joseph rise and flee this place
Past the Nile’s flow
Mary and the child now take
By night darkness go
In Ramah’s coast a wailing’s heard as
Herod’s men search everywhere
To kill the King whom the angels declare
Rachel weeps her children are gone

High on top of Calvary’s hill they
Crucified my Lord
And with each pounding of the nail
Mary’s heart was flailed and torn
As she watched them work their will
The Son of God they scourged and killed
That all he said might be fulfilled
To break the bands of sin’s earthly cords

Now Mary hold your baby tight
Keep him safe and warm
Wrap him in linen so soft and white
Now he’s safe from harm
Cradle him against your breast
Comfort him and give him rest
Of all God’s children he was the best
Rock him gently there in your arms

Gently lay his body down
Remove the blood stained thorny crown
Shelter him beneath a shroud
Lay him in a borrowed mound

Three days past and come now whence
To roll the stone away
Bringing myrrh and frankincense
To anoint the babe
But behold he is not there!
And wise men seek him everywhere
You’ll find him in a golden chair
Cradled in his Mother’s sweet arms