Who is that, who, amid the throng,
So benignly walks along,
Love beaming in his face?
‘Tis Christ the Lord who hastens by,
For one, in yonder house, doth lie,
Who needs His healing grace.
One, too, there is amid that crowd,
Beneath the weight of suffering bowed,
Unknown to all beside.
For twelve long years she bore her pain,
Gave all she had—could nothing gain.
Till Jesus she espied.
But when she sees Him drawing near,
How bounds her heart with hope and cheer,
Resolved the crowd to brave.
“If I but touch His garment’s hem,”
She thinks, “I shall lack nothing then.”
That touch of faith she gave.
Immediately her pains depart!
What joy, what comfort fills her heart!
She would not have it known.
She little dreamed that feeble touch
Had cheered her Saviour’s heart as much
As it had healed her own.
He felt the virtue flowing o’er,
That He was trusted, which was more
Than aught she ere could do.
And could He let the healed one go,
Without a word, a look, to show
That He had loved her too?
He does not heed the callous press,
He longs to hear her lips confess
How He had made her whole.
And thus He gives her sweet release,
“Thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace.”
He now has saved her soul.
And is not Jesus now the same
As when that lowly woman came
To have her pain removed?
Since He ascended to His throne
How many a touch unseen, unknown,
His healing power has proved!
Yes, still the streams of virtue flow,
To cleanse the sin, to cure the woe,
It needs not but to touch.
And now as then the sufferer feels
How truly, perfectly, it heals—
And Christ is cheered as much.