A Hidden Life

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THE WOMAN WHO CAME BEHIND HIM IN THE CROWD.


Near him she stole, rank after rank;

  She feared approach too loud; She touched his garment's hem, and shrank

  Back in the sheltering crowd.

A trembling joy goes through her frame:

  Her twelve years' fainting prayer Is heard at last; she is the same

  As other women there.

She hears his voice; He looks about.

  Ah! is it kind or good To bring her secret sorrow out

  Before that multitude?

With open love, not secret cure,

  The Lord of hearts would bless; With age-long gladness, deep and sure,

  With wealth of tenderness.

Her shame can find no shelter meet;

  Their eyes her soul appal: Forward she sped, and at his feet

  Fell down, and told Him all.

His presence made a holy place;

  No alien eyes were there; Her shamed-faced grief found godlike grace;

  More sorrow, tenderer care.

"Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole;

  Go, and be well, and glad." Ah, Lord! if we had faith, our soul

  Not often would be sad.

Thou knowest all our hidden grief

  Which none but Thee can know; Thy knowledge, Lord, is our relief;

  Thy love destroys our woe.





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