At His Feet

At His Feet
Silently the hours were passing,
As she sat at Jesus' feet;
One blest voice all else surpassing,
Self was hushed in that retreat.
Wondrous place of lowly nearness
Mary chose with Him alone,
Lord, may we too know its sweetness,
Take her place to be our own.
Jesus Lord! though man despise Thee,
We may pour upon Thy feet
All the wealth of hearts that prize Thee,
Precious ointment pure and sweet.
Savior I every crown in glory
Will be cast before Thy feet―
Feet, that tell of Calvary's story,
Tell of love divinely sweet.
Till that day, oh, keep us near Thee;
We would at Thy feet abide
Whilst our voices rise to praise Thee,
Son of God-once crucified.