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!"