Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1828.pdf/2



Thou, that with pallid cheek, And eyes in sadness meek, And faded locks that humbly swept the ground, From thy long wanderings won, Before the all-healing Son, Didst bow thee to the earth, oh lost and found!

When thou would'st bathe his feet, With odours richly sweet, And many a shower of woman's burning tears, And dry them with that hair, Brought low the dust to wear, From the crowned beauty of its festal years.

Did He reject thee then, While the sharp scorn of men On thy once bright and stately head was cast? No, from the Saviour’s mein, A solemn light serene, Bore to thy soul the peace of God at last!

For thee, their smiles no more Familiar faces wore; Voices, once kind, had learned the stranger's tone. Who raised thee up, and bound Thy silent spirit’s wound? He, from all guilt the stainless, He alone!

But which, oh erring child! From home so long beguiled, Which of thine offerings won those words of Heaven, That o'er the bruised reed Condemned of earth to bleed, In music passed, "Thy sins are all forgiven!"

Was it that perfume fraught With balm and incense brought From the sweet words of Araby the blest? Or that fast flowing rain Of tears, which not in vain To Him who scorned not tears, thy woes confessed?

No, not by restored Unto thy Father's board, Thy peace, that kindled joy in Heaven, was made; But costlier in his eyes, By that best sacrifice, Thy, thy full deep, before Him laid.