Mary Of Magdala

Poor harlot, Mary Magdalene,
Into the feast with trembling crept,
Past frowns that stabbed her with their hate
And falling at His feet she wept.
Self-righteous Simon spurned her there
And marveled that her sinful touch
Displeased Him not, but he forgave:
"Though sinning sore she love'd much."


Brave, grateful Mary Magdalene,
When Peter all his faith had lost,
Pressed on through swords of arme'd men
And knelt in grief beneath the cross;
She bathed the nail-pierced feet with tears
That mingled with His trickling blood,
While Andrew, Matthew, James and all
Far off in abject terror stood.


Saved, faithful MARY MAGDALENE
Through all that morning's doubt and gloom,
When Hope and Faith had fled the world,
Brought from that empty shattered tomb
The words that thrill a save'd world --
With flying feet and sobbing breath:
"The Christ is risen as he said,
Triumphant Lord of conquered Death!"