Heaven Looks Upon Mary

This is the chosen little girl
With hazel eyes and hair awhirl,
Gaily gathering hillside flowers
Or watching clouds for hours and hours;
Singing tunes with sweet bird’s breath
Or skipping streets of Nazareth;
Father, this is she.

This is the chosen blooming maid,
Who with her friends had often played
The rudiments of family life,
Preparing now to be a wife.
Observing all the sacred rites:
Passover, Purim, Feast of Lights.
Father, this is she.

This is the chosen woman now
Reflecting prophecy on how
A virgin gives Messiah life,
And she not yet kind Joseph’s wife.
Her’s is the vessel, now the time.
She will accept your Seed Divine.
Father, this is she.

This is the chosen handmaid now,
Receiving gladly Gabriel’s vow.
The first to know, fair bless’ed one
That now is her salvation come.
We watched her grow so beautifully,
A precious child to you and me;
Father, this is she

Oh yes, dear Father, this is she.
Fulfill her waiting womb with me.
This is the time, this is her story,
This the moment Christ forsakes Glory.
Wondrous conception like none other,
She is now made my earthly mother.
Awesome purity.

Bless her with grace to watch me grow.
From cradle to cross she’ll love me so!
Yet I will not have much time to share
In thanksgiving for a mother’s care.
Yes, bless her with grace, as now we start,
For one day a sword shall pierce her heart.
Father, this is she.


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