The son you loved was not your son
The mother, set apart.
Alone God knows what awful doubts
Assailed your loving heart.
But strong in faith you heard the voice
That came from Heaven’s high throne,
And spent your life in toil and care
To keep them as your own.
And when death’s angel laid his hand
Upon your tired, grey head,
God and his blessed mother knelt
In tears beside your bed.
O pray that I with equal faith
May walk the narrow way
To come at last through death’s dark night
To bright, eternal day.
Then, Joseph, take me by the hand
And lead me at the end
There where the mother and the son
Will greet me as your friend.