Sweet Mary, embrace your Child.
Bend low and breathe the sweetness of His soul.
Caress his silken locks and let soft scents
take residence in memoryís treasure tents.
Breathe in and know the closeness of your Son
as myrrh and frankincense weave shades to come.
In starlightís glow with gentle fingers trace
the perfect features of your Babyís face.
Dear Mary, as worry permeates,
search dusty roads and crowded city gates.
Your Boy about His Fatherís work must be
in incensed temples teaching piety.
Release your Son to bloom in Godís own Will,
to draw unto Himself those He may fill
with fragrance that shall sweeten Heavenís days,
aromas rich, obedience and praise.
Now, Mary, prepare to see
your Son assume His true identity.
The wedding wine is emptied, urns stand bare.
Imploring scent of need weighs in the air.
Tell servants to respond to Jesusí words.
Bring water. Fill each vessel. Be assured,
the bridegroom no dishonor will endure.
Breathe in the wonder of New Wine so pure.
Oh, Mary, embrace the robe.
Embrace the Masterís seamless stole.
Between the cross and grave you must pause here,
away from pungent bitter hate and fear.
Arrange the precious herbs and spices rare
to lay upon His Body, tomb prepared.
Embrace the robe, and weep you here.
Draw strength as you breathe in His fragrance dear.
Sweet Mary, come and see!
Your Son has risen from the grave indeed!
The garden blossoms in the Light of God.
No longer are we bound by sinís dark rod.
Breathe in fresh scents of joy and victory!
Death could not keep your Son from you or me.
We all may now embrace the Holy One,
and be the Fragrance of Godís blessed Son.
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