Idylls of the Bible/Simon's feast
SIMON'S FEAST.
He is coming, she said, to Simon's feast, The prophet of Galilee,Though multitudes around him throng In longing his face to see.
He enters the home as Simon's guest, But he gives no welcome kiss;He brings no water to bathe his feet— Why is Simon so remiss?
The prophet's face is bright with love, And mercy beams from his eye;He pities the poor, the lame and blind, An outcast, I will draw nigh.
If a prophet, he will surely know The guilt of my darkened years;With broken heart I'll seek his face, And bathe his feet with my tears.
No holy rabbi lays his hand In blessing on my head;No loving voice floats o'er the path, The downward path I tread.
Unto the Master's side she pressed, A penitent, frail and fair,Rained on his feet a flood of tears, And then wiped them with her hair.
Over the face of Simon swept An air of puzzled surprise;Can my guest a holy prophet be, And not this woman despise?
Christ saw the thoughts that Simon's heart Had written upon his face,Kindly turned to the sinful one In her sorrow and disgrace.
Where Simon only saw the stains, Where sin and shame were rife,Christ looked beneath and saw the germs Of a fair, outflowering life.
Like one who breaks a galling chain, And sets a prisoner free,He rent her fetters with the words, "Thy sins are forgiven thee."
God be praised for the gracious words Which came through that woman's touchThat souls redeemed thro' God's dear Son May learn to love him so much;
That souls once red with guilt and crime May their crimson stains outgrow;The scarlet spots upon their lives Become whiter than driven snow.