She sat her throne, imprisoned with God at her side The sweetest of slaves given sweetest of freedoms Her beauty tolled in her heart the sweetest of bells Truer to tone, that the humming bird at flower. No one stroked her tresses in desire foul play Lest angeled legions sound trumpets chastising dirge Yet hers was an earthly song sing more musical than A thousand stringed lyre, melody of sweetest song, Dressed she was and fit to meet the mightest king Strength of words to her son changed water to wine But she remained his lovely servant true to grace In a flowing of love to love and grace to grace And in harmony with him she lives face to face
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