Lord, When in Simon’s House of Yore

Lord

when in Si­mon’s house of yore

Thou with Thy friends didst sit at meat

Mary the pre­cious spike­nard bore

And poured it at Thy sac­red feet.

Like in­cense sweet

the per­fume rare

Rose through the house

and sought the skies;

And Thou didst own with bless­ing there

A wo­man’s lov­ing sac­ri­fice.

So un­to Thee

O Lord

this day

A year of la­bor here we bring;

So at Thy feet the gift we lay;

Accept

O Lord

the of­fer­ing.