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.