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  1. Magdalene

From the recording Magdalene

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Lyrics

Magdalene
M. Litton

Christ was the lover of Magdalene
His love could wash away her sin
She gave him shelter through his lone crusade
He held her warmly in a cloak of red
By the lines of his palms she knew her lord...
In the morning the soldiers came and he fled
To Egypt and back in a cold March rain
He was forty days in the desert, he made it to the border...
Then he rode to the window of Magdalene
She dressed his wounds, he rode again
Through the hills and border towns his fame soon spread
They called him an outlaw, he gave the poor their bread

He sang her the Song of Solomon
His love ruled death, his word was law
The son of a carpenter rode like a prince
Old men wept and the children danced
For they saw by his deeds he was a king...
He said, The last shall be first, the wicked be damned!
As he rode through the temple with a cracking whip
Twelve left their ships and their lands
To follow out of Galilee

He answered the cry in the wilderness
He rode the path of the prophet’s curse
Above every arch which lined the streets
Flew the eagle and the gray gargoyle
They were slain by the dove and his wisdom...
In the shadow of winter he found a sparrow
By his breath it flew into a tree
He said, Even so will we go into the Kingdom...
Then he rode to the window of Magdalene
She dressed his wounds, he rode again
Through the hills and border towns his fame soon spread
They called him an outlaw, he gave the poor their bread

Kissed by Judas at Gethsemane
They hung him on a cross at Cavalry
They tore off his boots to drive the nails
He was naked and they laughed like wolves
I thirst, I thirst, was his only cry...
When they pierced his flesh so cracked the stone
Of every wall through the many hills
The sky fell black, the earth bled, as he closed his eyes...
For Christ was the lover of Magdalene
His love could wash away her sin
Through the hills and border towns his name was praised
Some swore that the Christ would ride from the grave

As the moonlight is anchored to the sea
So Christ is captive in our dreams
His ghost yet rides the midnight storms
Shore to shore as the centuries pound
He’s seeking the bed of his Magdalene...
You can hear him thunder through the clouds
He sends forth fire to find her door
She’s waiting for him to come
She’s waiting with their children...
Then he rides to the window of Magdalene
She cleans his wounds, he rides again
Through the hills and border towns the word is spread
They call him an outlaw, he gives the poor their bread.