The Tiniest Crucifixion Lord Jesus, could you rock him for a while? He has no mother's breast, no father's smile, No downy silken pillow for his head; They placed him in that bloody basin - dead. He was so small, this baby doomed to die, His mother's rights the only reason why. From somewhere safe and warm they tore this child. Lord Jesus, could you rock him for a while? Poor little one, who was it who took your breath? Who made the healer's hands a thing of death? Who was your Judas? Mother? Doctor? State? Or was it we who fought your cause too late? Please Jesus, rock the other babies too Forgive us, Lord. We do know that they do. He has no cradle, cross; no grave, no tomb, This baby crucified inside the womb. F. Hughes, PE (The Southern Cross, 2 - 8 May 2001)