Joanna is unknown at court,
Although entitled to be there;
The record of her life's report
In fadeless glory has its share.
Susanna's name is intertwined,
A gem as sparkling and as clear
As those with which it is enshrined;
And this is all we know of her.
And those whose names have not been given
Are now in realms of light and love,
Praising him mid the choirs of heaven,
Crowned with his joy and peace and love.
Mary of Magdala was brought
From mysteries strange and dark and drear
To heights with joy and gladness fraught;
She radiates a luster clear.
Those chimes from Bethany will ring
With power that will not, cannot die;
Martha's and Mary's names will sing
Long as the flitting centuries fly.
That spikenard, which 'twas wholly meet
Mary should pour upon his head,
Has filled with fragrance rare and sweet
Succeeding ages as they've fled.
And when a critic standing near
Censured her act, misunderstood,
Christ spoke so that the world might hear;
He said, "She hath done what she could."
This her memorial while the sun
Traverses the blue dome of heaven,
Fulfilling while time's cycles run
Christ's prophecy which then was given.
Unto the end these faithful few,
Regardless of all pain and loss,
Did what their hearts and hands could do,
Though bowed with wonder at the cross.
Such love they could not understand,
Such love unto his latest breath;
That love had our redemption planned
Both in his life and in his death.