Long, long ago; so I have been told,
Two mothers once met on the streets paved with gold.
“By the stars in your crown,” said the one to the other,
“I can see that on earth, you, too, were a Mother.
“And by the blue-tinted halo you wear
You, too, have known sorrow and deepest despair.”
“Ah yes,“ she replied, “I once had a son.
A sweet little lad, full of laughter and fun.
“But tell of your child,” -- “Oh, I knew I was blest
From the moment I first held him close to my breast,
And my heart almost burst with the joy of that day.”
“Ah, yes,” said the other, “I felt the same way.”
The former continued, “The first steps he took
So eager and breathless—the first startled look
Which came over his face—he trusted me so….”
“Ah, yes,” sighed the other, “How well do I know.”
“But soon he had grown to a tall handsome boy,
So stalwart and kind – and it gave me such joy
To have him just walk down the street by my side.”
“Ah, yes, sighed the other, “I felt the same pride.”
“How often I shielded and spared him from pain.
And when he for others was so cruelly slain,
When they crucified Him and they spat in His face,
How gladly would I have hung there in His place.”
A moment of silence –“Oh, then you are she—
The Mother of Christ,” and she fell on one knee;
But the Blessed One raised her up, drawing her near
And kissed from the cheek of the woman a tear.
“Tell me the name of the one you loved so,
That I may share with you your grief and your woe.”
She lifted her eyes, looking straight at the other
“He was Judas Iscariot, I am his mother.”