She stands beneath his dying and will not be persuaded to leave, despite the urgings of others. They huddle against her in an effort to hold her against the pain, but she stands erect, unleaning, her eyes upon his face.
From the hillside the sounds of weeping and wailing hang heavy in the air, but she who held him in a stable in Bethlehem stands silent beneath his cross in Jerusalem, her heart pondering still, her soul magnifying the Lord, her spirit praising God, knowing even now that she is blessed among women.
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