It was a decree of Herod,
Caused mothers to run wild;
He sent soldiers from his palace
To kill each young male child.
To kill the babe, the mother’s hope:
To mothers it didn’t seem right;
The mothers with their babies
For refuge took their flight.
One mother fled for refuge
To a cave within the ground;
To all it was suspicious;
By a soldier it was found.
Looking in at the open door,
As a bird upon its nest,
He saw a frightened mother
With a babe pressed to her breast.
“What seek ye?” cried the mother,
With a voice both faint and wild;
“I am on a duty from Herod
To kill each young male child!”
“Oh! spare my child!” cried the mother;
“I pray thee let it live;
If life’s what thou seek’st,
Take mine; I’ll freely give!”
“It’s not your’s; it’s the babe’s;
My duty I must perform.”
He reaches his hand toward her
To take it from her arm.
Back to the corner she fled;
He rushed like a wild bear;
As a wolf on a lamb, he seized
And from her bosom tore.
The mother, to save her babe,
Bounds like a flying dart.
Too late! he unsheathed his blade
And drives it through its heart.
The mother, viewing the horrible scene,
Sinks breathless upon the floor;
He throws the babe by her side
Steps from the earthen door.
The mother, dying upon the ground,
Once from death did awake;
Saw her struggling baby lying
With arms outstretched to take.
Quick as lightning her babe she grasped,
Her lips pressed to its wound;
They both gave up life’s precious breath,
Sank dead upon the ground.
A spirit went wafting through the sky
With a babe upon its breast;
Within the cave their corpses are seen,
Their souls are in heav’n at rest.
(James Ephraim McGirt)
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