REDEMPTION. 201
Cressive diffused his thaumaturgic fame.
Him, there, at last, when almost lost to hope,
The trembling penitent believing found.
Unspeakable compassion sat serene
On his unsullied brow, while sanctity,
With beams pervasive, radiant deck'd him round.
That, sweetly urged her on, but this withheld,
Recall'd the tainture of her guilty soul,
Depress'd her spirits, paralyzed her limbs,
And held her fainting, scarce the threshold o'er.
Sore conflict raged within; the prime impulse
To shrink, and fly whom ardently and long,
She had, unworthy, sought. But love divine,
The contest brief decides, and swift impels,
Whom fear repell'd before. Versant in grief,
And o'erwhelm'd with woe, prostrate in dust,
At Jesus feet, the sinner hastive bows.
No word she utters, no complaint prefers,
But sighs and groans, with flooding grief renews.
The sacred tide elutes the Saviour's feet,
Streams o'er his eouch, and pours along the ground,
Acceptable to him, who saw its flow;
Each drop more precious deem'd than costliest pearls,
Than diamonds, or rubies, gems or gold.
The flowing tresses of her silken hair,
So oft with winsome toil to lure bedight,
Profusely fall, and veil her beauteous face,
In mazy folds float round her loving Lord,
And wipe the briny torrent as it rolls.
His feet she kisses, noints with costly nard,
And sighing, faints with ravishment away.
As Mary, thus in low contrition bends,
17*
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