The Hidden One

Holy Virgin, young and free
Tending to her daily needs
The chosen daughter meekly
showing love in selfless deeds

Archangel Gabriel then appeared
To bring great news of joy
The will of God she adhered,
Word made flesh, a little boy.

Hidden in His mother’s womb
Away from human gaze
The tiniest of Bridegrooms
In secret there He stays

Nine months before a stable laid
The embryonic Saviour reigned
Within the body of His Handmaid
The Lamb of God who would be slain.

Though angels and star made known
The birth of God the Son
The little King would choose a home
hidden from sight of everyone

30 years of precious silence
His words and works would not be seen
Until the Spirit made appearance
At Jordan’s banks, water serene.

Healings and miracles followed in his wake
Signs and wonders He did display
Never did He the glory take
But went to the mountains to fast and pray

Passover night, at cenacle’s table
The humble Master would show again
That of all the things that He was able
He willed to be hidden from the sight of men.

Bread and wine, grape and grain
He blest, broke, and gave
Humbling Himself once again
To redeem all who those are enslaved.

Hidden under form of food
To make for us the way
To show how we have been pursued
The Bridegroom’s love in clear display

 

The Creator of the Universe hung on a tree
Beaten, mocked, and unknown
Here the Saviour was content to be
The crucified Cornerstone.

The pierced heart that was foretold,
His Sorrowful Mother He gave away
To John the Beloved he gave to hold,
To his home she would go and stay.

Detached completely from the world
The Morning Star did fade.
Placed within a borrowed tomb
Adam’s debt had been repaid.

Three days the King arose
Early in the morning light
Yet remained hidden from sight of most
The Sun of Righteousness burning bright

Desiring to be hid once more
He prophesied the Pentecost
The Spirit would come behind closed doors
flowing from His side upon the Cross

The Triune God in heart to dwell
What humility sublime
The victor over death and hell
With us until the end of time

The Father’s gift, the hidden One
The greatest grace He could impart
Was His Only Begotten Son
In womb, in host, in heart.

Written by Chris Pinnegar