In a Mother's Arms

[Jarid in Cedar]

Rest now child, don't you fuss
Don't have a worry in this world
For now you rest in your mother's arms.

You are born for greatness
You will inspire kings and philosophers
But not yet as you are still my child

You will suffer great pain and tragedy
For those you will never meet
But I can protect you now,
In your mother's arms

Men will die, and men will kill in your name
Men will curse you, men will praise you,
But for now, you are my child

You teach a better way, but it will be rejected
You will lead them to a higher calling, but they may not follow
You will travel far and wide, but walk within the hearts of men
But for now, you are just my child

You are born the Son of God
Here to inspire man to a better life.
For now, stay in the protection
Of your Mother's Arms


Merry Christmas CUF

[BigPiney]

That brought to mind the Pieta, which is one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of sculpture I have had the fortune to see in person.



Michelangelo was truly great.

[Jarid in Cedar]

That brought to mind the Pieta, which is one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of sculpture I have had the fortune to see in person.



Michelangelo was truly great.

I have never seen that sculpture before. Michelangelo was truly a master of conveying emotion in art.

[LA Ute]

I stole this from my post in another thread, but it seems to fit here too. If you like sacred choral music, this one's great:

[YOUTUBE]1ucVQSJunR4[/YOUTUBE]

Here are the lyrics, which I've committed to memory and recited in many a talk and private Christmas gathering:

What Sweeter Music

What sweeter music can we bring
Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice! Awake the string!

Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this day,
That sees December turned to May.

Why does the chilling winter’s morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell like a meadow newly-shorn,
Thus, on the sudden? Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be:
‘Tis He is born, whose quickening birth
Gives life and luster, public mirth,
To heaven, and the under-earth.

We see him come, and know him ours,
Who, with his sunshine and his showers,
Turns all the patient ground to flowers.
The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is, we find a room
To welcome him. The nobler part
Of all the house here, is the heart.

Which we will give him; and bequeath
This holly, and this ivy wreath,
To do him honour, who’s our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.

What sweeter music can we bring,
Than a carol for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?

Robert Herrick (1591-1674)