“ Yes, weep, O woman frail and fair ; Though tears that fall so fast Amid that bright up-braided hair Can ne’er efface the past. “ Though other drops, whose power divine Can wash thy stains away, Must plead e’en more than tears like thine ; More holy still than they. “ Had He who pardons bid thee bring Those tears his love to buy, That word had ne’er unseal’d the spring That fills thy streaming eye. “ Ah ’twas not Sinai’s flash that taught That frozen fount to glow : No—milder, mightier rays it caught ; And lo, the waters flow ! “ Pour then thine odours—pour, and see, In Him on whom they fall, The vase of clay that holds for thee Balm costlier far than all. “ More fragrant unction on that brow Rests, where his Father smiled : He bears a brother’s name ; for thou, Thou too art call’d a child. “ Oh wondrous !—pour a heaven of tears : When sin’s erased above, How dark that record torn appears, In the full light of love !”