She was a young girl, just fifteen,
when the wondrous deed was done.
Behold, a ****** had conceived;
It was foretold she’d have a son.

She was promised to an older man,
a joiner of wood, simple and plain.
Many a man might have demurred;
exposing her to the stones of shame.

In his troubled sleep, he had a dream,
revealing all that God had done;
Joseph took Mary to be his wife
As the Roman census had begun.

Mary considered these things in her heart
As the infant grew and thrived.
He was strong in wisdom, kind of heart.
Though Herod pursued Him, the child survived.

Three years he traveled these ancient hills;
In synagogues and Temples, he taught.
Until, betrayed, he was arrested,
and brought before the Roman court.

How hard for Mary to behold
her only son upon a cross.
She heard Him cry out to the sky
and yield His spirit when all seemed lost.

It seemed he was in Satan’s power;
When even gold appeared but dross.
Then Joseph of Arimathea came
to claim His body from the cross.

Hope is a slender reed;
enough to build a dream upon.
She, too, beheld the empty tomb.
The stone removed, the Master gone.