Yes, weep, O woman frail and fair ;1
Though tears that fall so fast2
Amid that bright up-braided hair3
Can ne’er efface the past.4
Though other drops, whose power divine5
Can wash thy stains away,6
Must plead e’en more than tears like
thine ;
More holy still than they.8
Had He who pardons bid thee bring9
Those tears his love to buy,10
That word had ne’er unseal’d the spring11
That fills thy streaming eye.12
Ah ’twas not Sinai’s flash that taught13
That frozen fount to glow :14
No—milder, mightier rays it caught ;15
And lo, the waters flow !16
Pour then thine odours—pour, and see,17
In Him on whom they fall,18
The vase of clay that holds for thee19
Balm costlier far than all.20
More fragrant unction on that brow21
Rests, where his Father smiled :22
He bears a brother’s name ; for thou,23
Thou too art call’d a child.24
Oh wondrous !— pour a heaven of tears :25
When sin’s erased above,26
How dark that record torn appears,27
In the full light of love !”28