273. C. M. Moore. |Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.|
1 Were not the sinful Mary's tears
An offering worthy heaven,
When, o'er the faults of former years,
She wept, and was forgiven?
2 When, bringing every balmy sweet
Her day of luxury stored,
She o'er her Saviour's hallowed feet
The precious ointment poured;
3 Were not those sweets so freely shed,
That shame, those weeping eyes,
And the sunk heart which inly bled,
Heaven's noblest sacrifice?
4 Thou that hast slept in error's sleep,
O wouldst thou wake to heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep;
|Love much,| and be forgiven!