the first sword

### The Sorrowful Sword of the Presentation When time was come, the law fulfilled, To holy city they ascended, Up to Jerusalem, where they would present The newborn Lord to His Father true. In ancient halls, old Simeon stood, The priest so wise, with heart inspired, By Spirit moved, the Child he saw, And knew at once, the Promised One. Sorrowful sword, through Mary’s heart, The first of seven sorrows start. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. Held high to heaven, the Child he praised, “Now let me go in peace, my Lord. This blessed Child, the Savior, sent, Fulfillment of the Word foretold.” To Mary then, with solemn gaze, He spoke of joy and sorrow mingled, “This Child shall rise, yet many fall, A sword shall pierce your soul with sorrow deep.” Sorrowful sword, through Mary’s heart, The first of seven sorrows start. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. The Virgin knew, with heart so pure, Her Child was Savior, mankind’s hope, Yet sorrow’s weight upon her lay, For prophecy of pain she grasped. Each glance upon her Son, her Love, Reminded her of coming trial, The scourge, the cross, His sacred blood, Her heart entwined with His own fate. Sorrowful sword, through Mary’s heart, The first of seven sorrows start. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. Pray for us, O Mother dear, Teach us to bear our pains with grace, To suffer silent, known to God, As you and Jesus showed the way. Offer we our sorrows pure, With thine and Christ’s, to God above, For you, our Mother, greatest known, Unite our grief with your own love. Sorrowful sword, through Mary’s heart, The first of seven sorrows start. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show. Pray for us, O Mother dear, Teach us to bear our pains with grace, To suffer silent, known to God, As you and Jesus showed the way. Offer we our sorrows pure, With thine and Christ’s, to God above, For you, our Mother, greatest known, Unite our grief with your own love. Sorrowful sword, through Mary’s heart, The first of seven sorrows start. Her Son, her Light, her deepest woe, The pain she bears for love to show.