our Prodical sons

DEATH
at the
MANGER

Sorrowful mother,
Do not weep
When children's faith
They do not keep.

With prayers to God
They're not compliant?
Then time for mother
To be defiant!

Get on your knees,
Where you adore,
He who made
Each babe you bore

Out of love,
So tangled-tight,
Burst their souls
Of promise, bright.

And if the brightness
Starts to dull
Think not that he
Is just a cull,

He's here to make
You ever holy,
We all need help,
Can't do it soley.

That's why we suffer
To imbue,
Prodigals, others,
Our cry and hue.

So they can see
On knees, we drop,
If unto death?
Our prayers won't stop.

And by His heart,
So sacred, tender,
In grace you'll die,
A suffering-splendor

Where in the fields
Of Heaven's Granger,
Sainted mothers pray
For your death at the manger.