The Hem Of His Garment

By William Henry Dawson

While the throng pressed closely upon Him,
And all were so anxious to see
The Man who was born in Bethlehem—
Who’d walked on the blue Galilee—
The Savior turned quickly about, and
Inquired of the great surging throng,
“Who touched me?” “Who hath put forth a hand?”
For out from me virtue hath gone.
It was not the hem of His garment
That made the poor sick woman whole.
There was nothing whate’er in His raiment
That could comfort a poor sin-sick soul.
‘Twas the touch of the life within Him;
‘Twas the touch of His love-filled soul;
‘Twas His love that discovered her sin;
‘Twas redemption that made her whole.

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