Monday
The seal was broken and the nard was poured
Upon His weary feet with love and care;
And, prostrate, she acknowledged Him as Lord,
Kissing the sorest places with her hair:
The gesture showed a want of calculation,
Spontaneous and far beyond excess;
Too wild, too animal, this adoration,
More like an act of love than grave address.
Teach us to break the seal on our closed hearts
And pour their contents at Your aching feet
In prostrate grief at our so many hurts
For which Your Sacred Passion was complete:
And may we cease the bargaining of the child
And love without the prospect of reward;
And know You in our hearts, tender but wild,
As our true love as well as our true Lord.