CHRIST HEALING THE SICK. Giver of health and life, Where, but to thee, can pain and sorrow go, The fitful fever, and the maddening throe, Calmly thou standest there: The temple's arches vast are swelling round: With holy radiance and with peace profound, On thee the mother bends Her tearful glance, and checks the rising sigh As to the Lord she draweth fondly nigh, And they who linger near, With friends in sickness yet more fondly loved— Betwixt a smile and tear Gaze on the Saviour, and with faith are moved To see the wonders of his kindness proved; Around his robes they cling-the faint reviveThe stings of pain are quenched—the dying live. The face, that wore but now The settled paleness of the suffering hour, Reclaims its healthful glow; The red lip, faltering, speaks of heavenly power, While crystal tears descend—a grateful shower; Watering the damask cheek, that changed so soon, Like some fair lily to a rose of June. 'Tis done, and from the crowd Sweet voices, filled with joy and thanks, arise- And like rich incense, soaring to the skies, PHILADELPHIA. |