Each dew drenched morning, early
a solitary man arose
to the music of the dawning.
Cool amid hazy were those first lights,
when I’d see his lonely figure,
striding forth, with joyous steps,
toward a misty mountain place
to pray and seek his Father’s Face,
upon that waiting mountainside.
Once there, He’d find a spot to kneel
then pray unto His Abba Father God.
All too soon, like sheep, the mob,
(disciples, too!) would find Him gone,
and so would scurry hurriedly
to find, the paying man, they loved,
and by so doing, they’d disturb
His precious time, alone with God.
I thought I heard Him whisper there
as the crowds were drawing near,
“Not My will but Yours I’ll bear.”
How did He pray?
What were His prayers?
Petition for His Spirit’s rest,
or for His soul to be refreshed;
from early man’s polluted best?
What did His Heavenly Father share?
Divine instructions for the day??
What did He ask?
The answer, friend, I cannot tell –
I’m Mary, and they’re personal!