He, standing by her, though unknown,
She thought it was the gardener;
In flowing tears she made her moan,
Not knowing ’twas her partner.
I’ll grieve, and my poor Mary said,
’Till I know where they laid him;
And quickly turning round her head,
Began for to upbraid him.
Whom seek’st thou, Mary? said the Son;
She then perceived her Savior,