While Mary Magdalené told these things, Her noble face took on disfigurement Expressive of indignant horror and shame; And hardly had she been still beautiful But for a pathos fine of gratitude Tenderly crescent in it to the full, That all was of the past, no present pain, Naught but a memory! When her aspect cleared And she composedly went on again, It was as if the full moon late eclipsed With clouds rode from amid them forth serene In splendor, regent of the altered sky. "Those were the pangs of my deliverance, The throes of evil possession overcome. 'Come out of her!' He said; straight at that word, Rending me like a travail and a birth, They fled, and left me as one slain with wounds. But it was a delicious sense of death. I would be dead like that to be at peace! I hugged the death-like trance in which I lay, Until another word from the same voice Made it seem sweeter yet to live indeed. 'I say unto thee, Maid, arise!' I heard And I arose, obeying, I knew not how; It was as resurrection from the dead, Or first creation out of nothingness." The Indian bent on Mary telling all A fixed and eager heed that veiled itself, As wont was to this devotee of Buddh, Under a mask of face expressionless. He quenched in silence of quick second thought Impulses strong to speak and quit himself Of doubts and questions starting in his mind. He abode mute, and Mary, after pause Filled to each one with various thought, resumed "How glad was I, and grateful, when the Lord Permitted me, with other women too Healed by Him of distresses like to mine, To follow, in the ways of Galilee, His footsteps as He went from place to place On His unending rounds of doing good! He had not where to lay His head, was poor Though making many rich; and it was joy Unspeakable to us to minister Out of our substance to His daily needs. 'Give to us day by day our daily bread,' The prayer was that He taught us. God through us Answered that prayer to Him and we were glad!