Beneath His strong Hand, raised to bless,
Her warm head swivels all around;
Her lips proclaim a popping sound;
She ducks and drizzles on her dress.
He speaks forth noble prophecies:
"She will be a shining light!"
She grabs His finger, takes a bite,
Then drowns His "Amen!" with a sneeze.
Her parents squirm, embarrassed, shy;
Their hopeful hearts begin to sink.
What will their Benefactor think?
Their blessed babe's begun to cry.
Then gently, with a soothing smile,
He lifts the small one in His arm.
Assuring her she's safe from harm,
Himself He speaks to all the while.
For once beneath a starlit sky,
Besieged by noble prophecies,
With drizzles, bites, a drowning sneeze,
One Blessed Babe began to cry.
So well He knows each tiny mind
Of His creation; infinite,
He slipped into the least of it,
Became the meekest of our kind.
Her baby brain's His memory;
Her parents, babies in His eyes.
"Like babes," He says, "you become wise;
Like babies, you must follow Me."
And so we shed our grownup pride,
And bow down to His memory.
We die to self; He sets us free
To love, because in love He died
And rose, where once a Baby cried.
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