He's the son of a King, but he came to us with nothing. No purple robe, no crust of bread. With his soft, tiny hands he reached out for me to hold Him. There was no crown upon his head. So I guess that I should not have been surprised when I saw the human tears in His Holy Infant Eyes. And no one ever taught me how to sing a lullaby for the Son of the Mighty King. But when I held Him in my arms, and I rocked Him just the way that mothers do, I just knew. Just as we knew He'd be, he lived so selflessly,He was a legend in the land. People came from far and wide,looked at Him with pleading eyes longing for the healing in His hands. And in those endless busy days,he still had time for me, he always found a way. And no one ever taught me how to love a Healer and a Teacher sent from up above. But when He cared for me and helped me in the tender way that only He could do, I just knew. In sunlit moments I could see me in the traces of His smile. I know He came from me, but He was better than this world would allow. I could not save Him when He died. Now it seems that He's the one who holds me when I cry. And everybody asks me how I'm sure that the Little Boy I raised is our Redeemer. I could list the dreams and prophecies, and miracles that prove His mission true.But in all honesty, every moment I was with Him,I just knew. Do you know?