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