The Healer

To a Young Physician, with Doré’s Picture of Christ Healing the Sick

SO stood of old the holy Christ

Amidst the suffering throng;

With whom His lightest touch sufficed

To make the weakest strong.

That healing gift He lends to them

Who use it in His name;

The power that filled His garment’s hem

Is evermore the same.

For lo! in human hearts unseen

The Healer dwelleth still,

And they who make His temples clear

The best subserve His will.

The holiest task by Heaven decreed,

An errand all divine,

The burden of our common need

To render less is thine.

The paths of pain are thine. Go forth

With patience, trust, and hope;

The sufferings of a sin-sick earth

Shall give thee ample scope.

Beside the unveiled mysteries

Of life and death go stand,

With guarded lips and reverent eyes

And pure of heart and hand.

So shalt thou be with power endued

From Him who went about

The Syrian hillsides doing good,

And casting demons out.

That Good Physician liveth yet

Thy friend and guide to be;

The Healer by Gennesaret

Shall walk the rounds with thee.