Poetry

---

Moved to tears by sins forgiven
The lady washed the Teacher’s feet—
She who caught a glimpse of Heaven
Long scorned as ‘woman of the street’.

Tears she cried were of thanksgiving,
Of love abounding from within—
She, long dead, now ever living
Set free from bondage, death and sin.

Pride can never know His pardon,
Self-righteousness is vanity,
Haughty hearts like leaven harden
Expressed in rank hypocrisy.

He loves least who’s least repentant,
His heart unmoved by need of grace,
In good works is self dependant,
Whose outward deeds take pride of place.

Worship is like poured-out ointment
From broken vessels at His feet,
Love and praise from hearts repentant
Before His throne--a fragrance sweet.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE