MARY

She brought her alabaster flask

Well-filled with precious nard;

Nor did she deem the act a task,

Nor look for great reward;

She only thought of His great love,

And felt her gift was small

For Him who left His home above

To suffer death for all.

But her blest Lord more highly prized

The loving heart that gave;

For loveless gifts are e'er despised,

Yet men oft seek to pave

The way that leads to glory land

With deeds devoid of grace;

But only those who love can stand

Approved before His face.