1 Young Mary, survivor, alone in the world,
for that’s how it seemed to the mind of this girl.
An angel had promised the birth of a son,
but Mary just wanted to hide or to run.
2 Much less of a blessing, less joy to the earth,
the sound to her ears of the promise of birth;
unmarried, herself little more than a child,
the thoughts in her mind were horrendous, ran wild.
3 Would Joseph abandon her now in her need?
Would he share the faith of our latter-day creed?
More likely to leave her alone to her end,
now wounded by bias, no longer her friend.
4 That God could conceive to abandon, mistreat:
a sordid beginning, a birth on the street;
that Mary should taste wrath at such a young age;
the cross threw its shadow across the world’s stage.
5 Before she could magnify God in her song,
she had to confront all the world in its wrong,
the things in her mind she could not reconcile,
the world’s misconceptions and Herod’s cruel guile.
6 We sing of a manger, we tell of a birth,
our sentiment colours its moment and worth:
as deity seems to collude with the state
sing glory, sing Mary… before it’s too late.
Andrew E Pratt (born 1948)
© 2015 Stainer & Bell Ltd.
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