As one whom his mother comforteth,
so will I comfort you:
and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
—Isaiah 66:13 (KJB 1611)
A mother’s touch, a quiet grace,
Reflected in the Savior’s face;
She reads the silence of the soul,
To make the broken spirit whole.
In the healing embrace of her hand,
We find a safe and sacred land;
Like nursing her child at a gentle breast,
The heavy heart finds a perfect rest.
She knows the bruise before it shows,
The secret way where the sorrow grows;
With a love that will never tire,
She pulls us from the reaching fire.
Though we are grown and battle-scarred,
With our spirits weary and faces hard;
She sees the child beneath the man,
And holds him as only a mother can.
Upon the hip, against the heart,
Where grace and healing finally start;
The tender mercy of a King above
Is mirrored in a mother’s love.
A love that shelters, soothes, and stays
Through all our dark and drifting days;
In Zion’s home, the doors swing wide
To welcome every child inside.
So, rest within the nursing light,
Beyond the shadows of the night;
For deeper than a mother’s vow,
Is how the Lord is holding you now.
Competing Interests
None declared.