Alabaster Box

The room grew still as she made her way to Jesus,

She stumbles through the tears that made her blind,

She felt such pain, some spoke in anger,

Heard folks whisper, "There's no place here for her kind."

Still on she came through the shame that flushed her face

Until at last, she knelt before His feet,

And though she spoke no words, everything she said was heard,

As she poured her love for the Master, from her box of alabaster.

So I've come to pour my praise on Him,

Like oil from Mary's alabaster box,

So don't be angry if I wash His feet with my tears,

And I dry them with my hair, hmm,

'Cause you weren't there the night He found me

You did not feel what I felt

When He wrapped His love all around me and

You don't know the cost, not of this oil,

In my alabaster box,

No one knows what you've been through,

I can't forget the way life used to be,

'Cause I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound,

And I spent my days, poured my life without measure,

Into a little treasure box I'd thought I'd found

Until the day when Jesus came to me

And healed my soul with the wonder of His touch

So now I'm giving back to Him all the praise He's worthy of

I've been forgiven and that's why I love Him so much.

I've come to pour my praise on Him like oil

From Mary's alabaster box

Don't be angry if I wash His feet with my tears

And dry them with my hair, my hair

You weren't there

The night Jesus found me

You did not feel what I felt

when He wrapped His loving arms around me

And,

You don't know the cost of the oil, oh

You don't know the cost of my praise

You don't know the cost of the oil

In my alabaster box

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