Helpless howe'er my spirit lies,
And long hath languished at the pool,
A word of Thine shall make me rise,
And speak me in a moment whole.
She, too, who touched Thee In the press,
And healing virtue stole, Was answered:
Daughter, go In peace,
Thy faith hath made thee whole.
Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch Thee, If we may:
O send us not despairing home,
Send none unhealed away.