A body broken, blood poured out,

a cost to one, this is love's "shout"!

New life comes here, this way for us,

a chance to let love grow, and fuss.

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Oh Daddy, how come life can be this good?

With one adventure on the last, then more;

but respite in between, so that we could 

be readied for the next. And still be sure

of love like yours that hangs around to bless,

but lets us still make choices (not just doomed),

as baby gods (your offspring), eggs in nest,

or maybe more like mammals, still en-womb-ed.

But either way, we find that, down the track,

we are in no position, normally,

to see your face, but we can see your back

(when light appears to show what can be seen).

In this way you're our Mum, as well as Dad.

Sustainer, with your body nourishing.

And Jesus' word to us is just a tad

more precious (born from body torn). We sing

as goos and gahs of babe are heard by Mum,

and understood to be some way to say

what can't yet be conceived, but could still come

to be the words "I love you too." You say,

Lord Jesus, that for us to grow up so

to be like you, we'll need our food and drink,

and that the source of both is (now we know)

your body that will nourish. Milk, we think,

gets all its nourishment and growing pow'rs

from blood of Mum, and draws us close to her.

We will acknowledge gladly that the hours

we spend with you, are precious - though they blurr.

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