He flaunted recklessly along,
With hollow laugh and mocking song;
In tawdry garb and painted mirth,
The sorrowfulest thing on earth.
Time runs apace: the fleeting years
Left but her misery and her tears.
The very brothel-door was barred
Against a wretch so crook'd and marred.
She knocked at every gate in vain,
The cast-out harlot black with stain--
At all save one,--when this she tried,--
'T was His, the High Priest crucified.
He heard her tears, flung wide His door
And said, "Come in, and sin no more."