BY AMANDA PIZZOLATTO

Oh mother of the Holy Offering 

How patiently you wait for the light of day

In silence you bear your suffering 

For you know death will not keep Him away

To see His face twisted in agony

As He hung from that piece of wood

Your heart felt like it was pierced through

Just like the prophet said it would

Oh mother of the Holy Offering 

How tenderly you kissed your Son

As you cleaned His wounds with your tears

As His dying words came to mind: it is done

You laid Him to rest in a cavern tomb

Which only adds to your aching woe

But you wrapped Him in the shroud with loving care

The way you did when He was a babe long ago

Oh Mother of the Holy Offering 

How the hours drag on by 

As you await your Son’s return

Before returning to His Father on High

But He will return, as He said

On that glorious Pascal morn

As the gates of Heaven open

Accompanied by the sound of angelic horns