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Tuesday, April 23, 2013



Lord Jesus, could you rock him for a while?
He has no mother's breast, no father's smile.
No downy silky pillow for his head,
They placed him in the bloody basin --dead.
He was so small, this baby doomed to die,
His mother's rights, the only reason why,
From somewhere safe and warm, they tore the child,
Lord Jesus, could you rock him for a while?
Poor little one, who was it took your breath?
Who made the healers hand a thing of death?
Who was your Judas?- Mother? Doctor? State?
Or was it we who fought your cause too late?
Please Jesus, rock the other babies too,
Forgive us Lord, we don't know what we do.
He has no cradle, cross, no grave, no tomb,
This baby crucified in the womb.


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