You had fabulous fun playing with Jesus,
Your second cousin who knew no guile,
You loved to visit His mild mother,
Who always had the sweetest smile;
Through the patient passing of the years,
You saw the magical messiah mature,
And He chose you and your brother James,
To be apostles who strive to be pure;
In loving loyalty your mother agonized,
With Jesus’ mother at the foot of the cross,
Your father Cleophas was monstrously martyred,
And his death was a dire loss;
But you steadfastly served the Lord,
And were famous for physical healing,
You happily sought out holiness,
And spent much time prayerfully kneeling;
In a foreign land you were beaten to a pulp,
Until you were door-nail dead,
But it wasn’t satisfying enough,
So your murderers lopped off your head;
Now you wear a martyr’s golden crown,
And live in Heaven’s perennial jubilation,
Interceding for the Church Militant,
You help it become a new creation.