Why We Praise Them

In the darkness, unformed, unseen

She treasured me, vastly more, than anything

I made her sick and taxed her figure

Nonetheless, her love grew richer

In time I brought her matchless torment

Yet, joy, elation, induced this advent

Through tears and blood and agony

She prevailed with amity

A love like this has no equal

Though every mother lives the sequel

Praise her; rise and call her blessed

Her body, her life, was her bequest

And yet these things are but a peek

Of why we praise and what we speak

A mothers love is seen in birth

But lives eternal on this earth

With cries for her throughout the night

Sleepless, she would still the fright

Robbed of rest; it was no more

And still she mustered self to pour

She gave her days, her years, her spirit

So praise her now, all who hear it

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