 | The Literary Works of James Smetham |  |
IMMORTAL LOVE
Who knows the endless wealth of love?
How far its wingèd odours move?
When Mary brake with breaking heart
Her spikenard o'er her Master's head,
She chose, as erst, the better part;
Embalmed at once the quick and dead.
How far its wingèd odours move?
When Mary brake with breaking heart
Her spikenard o'er her Master's head,
She chose, as erst, the better part;
Embalmed at once the quick and dead.
We smell on earth its fragrance still,
It curls and wreathes on Zion's hill;
For as its incense rose sublime,
From heart and alabaster riven,
It filled the ample house of time,
And every golden hall of heaven.
It curls and wreathes on Zion's hill;
For as its incense rose sublime,
From heart and alabaster riven,
It filled the ample house of time,
And every golden hall of heaven.
| The Literary Works of James Smetham | |