Poem by George MacDonald

The Gospel Women. 12. Mary Magdalene

  With wandering eyes and aimless zeal,
      She hither, thither, goes;
  Her speech, her motions, all reveal
      A mind without repose.

  She climbs the hills, she haunts the sea,
      By madness tortured, driven;
  One hour's forgetfulness would be
      A gift from very heaven!

  She slumbers into new distress;
      The night is worse than day:
  Exulting in her helplessness,
      Hell's dogs yet louder bay.

  The demons blast her to and fro;
      She has no quiet place,
  Enough a woman still, to know
      A haunting dim disgrace.

  A human touch! a pang of death!
      And in a low delight
  Thou liest, waiting for new breath.
      For morning out of night.

  Thou risest up: the earth is fair,
      The wind is cool; thou art free!
  Is it a dream of hell's despair
      Dissolves in ecstasy?

  That man did touch thee! Eyes divine
      Make sunrise in thy soul;
  Thou seëst love in order shine:--
      His health hath made thee whole!

  Thou, sharing in the awful doom,
      Didst help thy Lord to die;
  Then, weeping o'er his empty tomb,
      Didst hear him _Mary_ cry.

  He stands in haste; he cannot stop;
      Home to his God he fares:
  "Go tell my brothers I go up
      To my Father, mine and theirs."

  Run, Mary! lift thy heavenly voice;
      Cry, cry, and heed not how;
  Make all the new-risen world rejoice--
      Its first apostle thou!

  What if old tales of thee have lied,
      Or truth have told, thou art
  All-safe with him, whate'er betide--
      Dwell'st with him in God's heart!

1. The Gospel Women. 16. The Woman That Was a Sinner
2. The Gospel Women. 3. The Mother of Zebedee's Children
3. The Gospel Women. 7. The Woman Who Came behind Him in the Crowd
4. The Gospel Women. 13. The Woman in the Temple
5. The Gospel Women. 1. The Mother Mary

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