Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
Nor other thought her mind admits
But, he was dead, and there he sits,
Anh he that brought him back is there.
Then one deep love doth supersede
All other, when her ardent gaze
Roves from the living brother’s face,
And rests upon the Life indeed.
All subtle thought, all curious fears,
Borne down by gladness so complete,
She bows, she bathes the Savior’s feet
With costly spikenard and with tears.
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