Once a wo­man si­lent stood
While Je­sus sat at meat;
From her eyes she poured a flood,
To wash His sac­red feet:
Shame and won­der, joy and love,
All at once pos­sessed her mind,
That she e’er so vile could prove,
Yet now for­give­ness find.

How came this vile woman here?
Will Je­sus no­tice such?
Sure, if He a pro­phet were,
He would dis­dain her touch!
Simon thus, with scorn­ful heart,
Slighted one whom Je­sus loved,
But her Sav­ior took her part,
And thus his pride re­proved.

If two men in debt were bound,
One less, the oth­er more;
Fifty, or five hun­dred pound,
And both alike were poor;
Should the lend­er both for­give,
When he saw them both dis­tressed;
Which of them would you be­lieve,
Engaged to love him best?

Surely he who much did owe,
The Pha­ri­see re­plied;
Then our Lord, “By judg­ing so,
Thou dost for her de­cide:
Simon, if like her you knew,
How much you for­give­ness need;
You like her had act­ed too,
And wel­comed Me in­deed!

When the load of sin is felt,
And much for­give­ness known;
Then the heart of course will melt,
Though hard be­fore as stone:
Blame not then, her love and tears,
Greatly she in debt has been:
But I have re­moved her fears,
And par­doned all her sin.

When I read this wo­man’s case,
Her love and hum­ble zeal;
I con­fess, with shame of face,
My heart is made of steel;
Much has been for­giv’n to me,
Jesus paid my hea­vy score,
What a crea­ture must I be,
That I can love no more!