Labor of Love by Andrew Peterson
It was not a silent night There was blood on the ground You could hear a woman cry In the alleyways that night On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean And the cobblestones were cold And little Mary full of grace With the tears upon her face Had no mother's hand to hold It was a labor of pain It was a cold sky above But for the girl on the ground in the dark With every beat of her beautiful heart It was a labor of love Noble Joseph at her side Callused hands and weary eyes There were no midwives to be found In the streets of David's town In the middle of the night So he held her and he prayed Shafts of moonlight on his face But the baby in her womb He was the maker of the moon He was the Author of the faith That could make the mountains move It was a labor of pain It was a cold sky above But for the girl on the ground in the dark With every beat of her beautiful heart It was a labor of love For little Mary full of grace With the tears upon her face It was a labor of love
