The Master’s Touch

She had need of healing power;

Her faith was full and sure.

Then He came, His garment dusty,

His face serene and pure.

Crowds before, around, and after—

Oh, she must get near to Him!

Suddenly a way was opened—

She stooped to touch His hem.

Just a touch, and she was healed;

She stood still, the crowd passed by.

But the Master turned abruptly:

“Who touched me?”

[“Lord, t’was I.”]

Now His gaze was full upon her,

Looking deep into her soul—

“Daughter be of good comfort:

Thy faith hath made thee whole.”