63
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
A penitent, frail and fair,
Rained on his feet a flood of tears,
And then wiped them with her hair.
