xiv. 20.
WERE NOT THE SINFUL MARY'S TEARS.
(AIR.--STEVENSON.)
Were not the sinful Mary's tears
An offering worthy Heaven,
When, o'er the faults of former years,
She wept--and was forgiven?
When, bringing every balmy sweet
Her day of luxury stored,
She o'er her Saviour's hallowed feet
The precious odors poured;--
And wiped them with that golden hair,
Where once the diamond shone;
Tho' now those gems of grief were there
Which shine for GOD alone!
Were not those sweets, so humbly shed--
That hair--those weeping eyes--
And the sunk heart, that inly bled--
Heaven's noblest sacrifice?
Thou that hast slept in error's sleep,
Oh, would'st thou wake in Heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep,
"Love much" and be forgiven![1]
[1] "Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much."--St.
Luke, vii.47.
AS DOWN IN THE SUNLESS RETREATS.
(AIR.--HAYDN.)
As down in the sunless retreats of the Ocean,
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So, deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee,
My God! silent to Thee--
Pure, warm, silent, to Thee,
As still to the star of its worship, tho' clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So, dark as I roam, in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee,
My GOD! trembling to Thee--
True, fond, trembling, to Thee.
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