Then Mary said:

“Behold the handmaid of the Lord,

Be it done unto me according to

Thy Word”.

For nine full months

her Eucharistic Son she bore,

and Him she did adore

within her womb.

Such love, such gratitude and praise,

this gospel secret never known from

early days.

And in her arms, she fed Him there,

her Eucharistic Son,

God made man.

 

In Bethlehem, that house of bread,

The bread of life was born.

Bread of angels, food divine

Manna that fell at morn.

 

In Nazareth, at evening meal,

He took the bread

that Mary’s hands did knead.

He broke the bread

and first to Mary, then to Joseph

The bread he gave.

 

She saw Him work with Joseph,

make table, crib and chair,

but ne’er a cross was ever made.

Joseph's gentleness was rare.

She pondered long,

You are Christ, my son.

Her faith was strong.

 

The Father said, “my son,

to you her flesh and blood she gave,

by holy Spirit didst conceive,

that flesh and blood to her return”.

The Eucharist, to her he gave.

 

On that last night with chosen twelve,

His love and light did radiate.

He took the bread in blessed hands,

“This is my Body”, He said.

The Cup He took and raised it up,

“This is by blood for you to sup”.

Aware were they of this most

sacred night.

The mystery was veiled.

His Passion hour begun.

Sad were they,

but love and thanks prevailed.

And then in words so gentle