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One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
to me it seemed just one more night--
like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
would hear the tinkling of the bells,
would see the garish harlot's robe
and painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
it did not matter much to me--
a nobleman, Samaritan,
a Roman or a Pharisee,
someone would pause and with one glance
strip me again of maiden pride,
and leaving, later, never know
the shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
he would not see my hollow heart
nor hear me curse him for his pay.
Just then I saw a band of men
approaching down the narrow road;
there should be one among that crowd
aho wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
my loneliness and misery.

I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He dines at Simon's house__
all day the dusty paths we roamed;
but, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
till from His side I cannot stay;
I will wash His feet with tears of love
and with my hair wipe the sand away.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

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