Is it He or is it she that most holds the eye, establishing a rhythm of the mind that moves between them? She moves after this night of bearing with the unbroken grace of girlhood. Unprostrate by what to the women of the world is heaviest labour she makes the little adjustments to smooth the harshness of the improvised cradle. Lightness she has, but she has decision also; for to no young mother has the talent of ministry come so readily as to her. It was for this she was made.

A bed from the clean fodder of domestic beasts receives the child. She is delighted to know now her baby is so wholly hers. The flesh she has dexterously cradled in the manger was formed in her under the shadowing of God the Holy Spirit by that same soul which in little vague movements now tentatively becomes expert in the hands. If she by the obvious movements of her ministry first takes the attention, it is herself, her very ministrations, that direct it further downward to the child. She is intent upon Him. He also upon her. The eyes which have not yet learned the little exercise of seeing give back in mirrors the movements of the mother. Palpably He is her son. By the living character of the features already marked in Him He is child of the house of David as is she.

This is her hour of possession. Prophecies crowding upon this moment, futurity weighing from it in its main sway keep the doors of the stable where Mary has given birth to her God.