Thy sins are forgiven.@Luke 7:48
portrait
Isaac B. Woodbury (1819–1858)

Jer­e­mi­ah J. Cal­la­han, in Ly­ra Ca­thol­i­ca (New York: E. Du­ni­gan & Bro­thers, 1851). How­ev­er, in Ira San­key’s Sac­red Songs and So­los, the words are at­trib­ut­ed to Em­ma J. But­ler.

Is­aac B. Wood­bu­ry (1819–1858) (🔊 pdf nwc).

Mr. F. Mark­ham, con­nect­ed with a large and well known pi­a­no fac­to­ry, was lead­ing an un­god­ly and heed­less life, says a Lon­don per­i­od­i­cal. One day he saw an an­nounce­ment that Moody and San­key were to open a mis­sion at St. Panc­ras that ev­en­ing.

Instantly he re­solved to go and hear the sing­ing. He and a com­pan­ion reached the hall in good time, as they thought, on­ly to find it crowd­ed to the doors. An ov­er­flow meet­ing was an­nounced at a neigh­bor­ing church, and thi­ther they went.

By and by Mr. San­key sang To the hall of the feast came the sin­ful and fair. As Mark­ham lis­tened, his past life seemed to rise be­fore him; the tears rushed in­to his eyes; his heart seemed brok­en.

Com­ing out, he asked his com­pan­ion what he thought of it. Oh, was the care­less re­ply, he is a nice sing­er. Is that all? It has brok­en my heart. Ere long he could say, in the words of the song, He looked on his lost one; my sins are for­giv­en.

When he got home his wife was am­azed at what had come ov­er him, and could not make out where he had been. She had been con­vert­ed years be­fore, but had back­slid­den. She ac­com­pa­nied him to the mis­sion on the fol­low­ing ev­en­ing, and was hap­pi­ly re­ceived.

The man be­came a Chris­tian wor­ker, and is the foun­der and su­per­in­ten­dent of the Ta­hall Road Fa­ct­ory Lads’ Home and In­st­it­ution.

Sankey, pp. 107–08

To the hall of the feast came the sinful and fair;
She heard in the city that Jesus was there;
Unheeding the splendor that blazed on the board,
She silently knelt at the feet of the Lord,
She silently knelt at the feet of the Lord.

The frown and the murmur went round thro’ them all,
That one so unhallowed should tread in that hall;
And some said the poor would be objects more meet,
As the wealth of her perfume she showered on His feet,
As the wealth of her perfume she showered on His feet.

She heard but the Savior; she spoke but with sighs;
She dared not look up to the heaven of His eyes;
And hot tears gushed forth at each heave of her breast,
As her lips to His sandals were throbbingly pressed;
As her lips to His sandals were throbbingly pressed.

In the sky, after tempest, as shineth the bow,
In glance of the sunshine, as melteth the snow,
He looked on that lost one: her sins were forgiv’n,
And the sinner went forth in the beauty of Heav’n;
And the sinner went forth in the beauty of Heav’n.