The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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VII.

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 shame-faced gladness thrills 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 drag her secret sorrow out

Before that multitude?

The

eyes of men she dares not meet-- On her they straight must fall!--

Forward she sped, and at his feet

Fell down, and told him all.

To the one refuge she hath flown,

The Godhead's burning flame!

Of all earth's women she alone

Hears there the tenderest name:

"Daughter," he said, "be of good cheer;

Thy faith hath made thee whole:"

With plenteous love, not healing mere,

He comforteth her soul.

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