MARY MAGDALENE SPEAKS
“My heart is empty, empty as this grave,
As cold as stone, deprived of Love’s fierce fire.
Nothing, no one can warm or fill me save
The Lord, who once did pull me from the mire.
Soon, like this garden overgrown with weeds,
My virtue, choked by ivies of despair
And twisting vines of vice and vile deeds,
Will rot and fall away without His care.
The lilies of the field die in the drought
That comes after the rains, and so will I,
In this dark dryness of my soul, without
The water whoso drinks shall never die.
Here comes the gardener; but where is mine?”
“Mary! See here I am, forever thine.”
9
BAYLEY BULLETIN, JUN-AUG 2016
