(Luke 7.)

Her feet moved onward by attraction great,
With alabaster box of ointment sweet:
She heeded not the scorn of Pharisee;
Her thought but one-a place at His dear feet.

Those precious, weary feet, on which no care,
Or common courtesy, had been bestowed,
She'll wash with contrite tears, and wipe them with
Her hair, the glory of her womanhood.

Five hundred pence she owed, and naught to pay!
A sad condition this; but oh, she hears
The words of grace falling from His own lips,
Which sound like music to her once-deaf ears-

" Frankly forgiven! "Oh, what a wondrous boon!
How can she cease to kiss Him o'er and o'er!
Though others may neglect, yet cannot she;
Though others slight, she'll love Him more and more.

Assured of forgiveness and His love,
What love and joy now fill her humble breast!
Jesus, Thou blessed Saviour, Lord and God,
May we, with her, thus value such a Guest!

L. C.

Key West, Fla.