Mother of the Weary

Mother of the Weary

When we are worn from a day’s work
Or bent beneath our suffering,
When we absorb the pain of another
Or tire from trying to do better,
When we are fatigued from reaching out
Or lose the strength to resist injustice,
You wrap your spacious maternal arms
Around our tiredness and affliction.
You cradle us with infinite compassion
And rock us gently with your love.

Today : I rest in the arms of the Mother.

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This excerpt from Fragments of your Ancient Name by Joyce Rupp is reprinted with permission of the publisher, Ave Maria Press.