Labor of Love
by Andrew Peterson
It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love
The Puritan identity. On a journey to a better country (Hebrews 11:16), going further up and further in to the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God (Romans 11:33) by laboring to delight in the law of the LORD and meditate on it day and night (Psalm 1:2) while the war and conflict relentlessly rage on until Christ comes (Romans 7:22-25) or calls me home.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
It Was Not A Silent Night...
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