Before a child is first conceived,
A cry goes up, Lord, let it be.
And from His throne room way up there,
God’s ear is tuned to a Mother’s prayer.

Then as the tiny seed takes shape,
She whispers, God, please keep him safe.
And the angels all stop and stare,
To see God listen to a Mothers prayer.

Through pain and blood on that special day,
Lord, give him life, she’s heard to say.
And with a deep and gentle care,
God listens to a Mother’s prayer.

Then daily as this little child grows,
Keep evil away! the angels are told.
And by the swords and shields they bear,
God has heard that Mother’s prayer.

Then one day as the child is sleeping,
Let him know Jesus, she mutters while weeping.
The angels are shouting and the trumpets blare,
As the Father above hears a Mother’s prayer.

As the world presses in on this teenage life,
She calls for his destiny through agony and strife.
Then God responds, to a faith so rare,
That compels Him to answer this Mother’s prayer.

Now all grown up and on His own,
She prays for him by letter or phone.
And God stands by with His right arm bare,
To listen and answer the Mother’s prayer.

Before a grandchild is conceived,
A cry goes up, Lord, Let it be.
And from His throne room way up there,
God’s ear is tuned to a Grandmother’s prayer…

copyright Wayne Dillard 2002