Mary to Her Saviour's Tomb
Mary to her Saviour's tomb,
Hasted at the early dawn;
Spice she brought, and rich perfume,—
But the Lord she loved was gone.
For a while she weeping stood,
Struck with sorrow and surprise,
Shedding tears, a plenteous flood,
For her heart supplied her eyes.
Jesus, who is always near,
Though too often unperceived,
Comes his drooping child to cheer,
Kindly asking why she grieved.
Though at first she knew him not,
When he called her by her name,
Then her griefs were all forgot,
For she found he was the same.
Grief and sighing quickly fled
When she heard his welcome voice;
Just before she thought him dead,
Now he bids her heart rejoice.
What a change his word can make,
Turning darkness into day!
You who weep for Jesus' sake,
He will wipe your tears away.
He who came to comfort her
When she thought her all was lost
Will for your relief appear,
Though you now are tempest-tossed.
On his word your burden cast,
On his love your thoughts employ;
Weeping for a while may last,
But the morning brings the joy.
纽屯（John Newton, 1752-1807）英国牧师，圣诗作家。