THREE GIFTS

[Mary ponders as she packs]

I'm nearly packed now, and soon I'll be gone:
I'm going to keep house for that nice young lad John.
There's just three things left - the rest are all sold.
There's the myrrh, and the frankincense, and the gold.
Why have I kept them for thirty-three years?
And why can't I see them now clear for my tears?
It's that I remember, when he was so small,
Just a baby, my darling - yet that isn't all.

This vision, you see, I did not understand,
Yet I knew for my baby some dire thing was planned.
When they came, these three strangers, all wise men and old,
And they gave me these gifts, frankincense, myrrh and gold.
Though all of his life we were hard-worked and poor,
And had never much money, though needing it sore,
Yet I knew I must keep them, though why - I can't tell,
But I knew they were his, and were not mine to sell.

Dear Joseph had taught him the carpenter’s trade,
And when he was ten, this fine casket they made.
It’s a box for the gifts, and I packed them away,
And there they have stayed through the years, to this day.
I was proud of my boy - he was bonny, well-grown,
Yet often, it seemed, he found peace quite alone.
He would gaze to the distance, where I could not see -
As if there were messages hidden from me.

My boy grew to a man, and he took to the road,
With strangers around him, to help bear his load.
And I stayed here at home, alone and bereft,
And only the casket of gifts now were left.
Until came the time when they said he must die,
And I journeyed to watch him, nailed up there on high.
He was laid in my arms, and they told me: "He's dead!"
Yet the thought of the gifts would not go from my head.

From the cross he had asked that I'd go to young John,
And though I didn't care, yet I had to live on.
For his words fell like dew on my poor broken heart,
Then I knew that I too, like the gifts, had my part.
In my casket now, only the gold still shines clear,
As clear as my son, ever bright, ever dear.
So I’m taking the gifts from their place on the shelf,
For it seems that he speaks to me - yes, his own self!

I did see him again, when he came back a while,
And for me he had always a warm, loving smile.
There were others around us, the friends he had known,
And those friends - and his mother - were all he could own.
And then came the day when he left us all here,
But though he was gone, still I knew he was near.
I can wait in John’s home till my son comes again,
And then farewell forever to sorrow and pain.

From his birth to his death, I have not understood,
Yet in guarding the gifts, I have done what I could.
Though the myrrh and the frankincense crumbled to dust,
Yet the gold shines forever, no tarnish, no rust.
And John and his friends, they will tell of my son,
While I cherish the gifts, as I always have done.
And I’ll work in John's house till it's time to be gone,
Knowing sure my son's story will ever live on.

And so shines my baby, so darling to me,
Now grown to a man whom I know I shall see.
You don't understand? No, neither do I,
Only that my dear son, like this gold, shall not die.
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