To dream on dear disgrace
    Each hour of every day—
To bring no honest face
    To aught I do or say:
To lie from morn till e’en—
    To know my lies are vain—
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
    Where can be greater pain?

To watch my steadfast fear
    Attend my every way
Each day of every year—
    Each hour of every day
To burn, and chill between—
    To quake and rage again—
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
    Where shall be greater pain?

One grave to me was given—
    To guard till Judgment Day—
But God looked down from Heaven
    And rolled the Stone away!
One day of all my years—
    One hour of that one day—
His Angel saw my tears
    And rolled the Stone away!