To Our Lady on Christmas Eve, Before the Blessed Sacrament

To Our Lady on Christmas Eve,
Before the Blessed Sacrament

Mother of God,
Ark of the Covenant,
Tabernacle of the Lord,
Throne of the Most High,
Vessel of the Almighty,
Treasury of the Most Precious,
Home of the Most Holy!

Your sacred shadow falls
across this room,
where gold and crystal-
poor images of you at best-
hold your beloved Son
in sweet stillness.

In the silence
I hear you hum a lullaby
of adoration, comfort;
for where the Child is,
there too will be the Mother.

I have woven Him
a blanket of my praises:
ragged and rough,
soiled and smelling of earth.
Take it, my Lady,
and hem it round with your prayers,
wash it with your tears,
smooth it out with your graces,
sprinkle it with the fragrance
of your glory.

Only then will it be a fit covering
for my Lord,
the Son of Mary,
the Son of God.

© 2001 by Paul Thigpen