"No room here" she heard her husband say,
And stopped counting shekels in a shadowy corner,
Then slipped away.
She stopped in her quarters for a bolt of cloth,
Then slipped out to the well for water,
On her way to a manger.
A young girl laboring without a scream
Her tall husband, hands wringing.
"May I help?" she offered.
Relief filled his face, he bowed to her,
While gathering sheep began to stir,
And bleat, displaced.
Quietly, quickly the dear babe’s head shown
The first cry of our Savior known,
Mary leaned into hay from toil resting.
The precious water bathed his body,
As his cousin would one day for glory do,
And swaddling clothes cuddled Him into the arms of his mother.
Grateful tears filled Joseph’s eyes
As the unknown woman slipped away
On silent sandaled feet.
Her name will not be known upon this earth,
The first to serve our Savior’s birth,
As she, in sweet humility would prefer it.
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