The maiden raised—The woman healed

The maiden raised—The woman healed

Jairus’ Daughter. Issue of Blood.

(The Gospel History, Section 57)

And as Jesus returned, when he had crossed over again in the boat unto the other side, a great multitude was gathered unto him, and they welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him: and he was by the sea. And behold, there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue. Jaïrus by name, and seeing him, he falleth at his feet, and worshippeth him, and beseecheth him much to come into his house; saying, My little daughter is at the point of death: but come and lay thy hands upon her, that she may be made whole, and live. And Jesus arose and followed him, and so did his disciples. And as he went with him, a great multitude followed him and thronged him.

And behold, a woman who had an issue of blood twelve years, and had suffered many things of many physicians, and could not be healed of any; and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse, having heard the things concerning Jesus, came in the crowd behind him, and touched the border of his garment. For she said within herself, If I do but touch his garment I shall be made whole. And immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her plague. And straightway Jesus, perceiving in himself that the power proceeding from him had gone forth, turned him about in the crowd, and said, Who touched my garments? And when all denied, Peter said, and they that were with him, Master thou seest the multitude thronging and pressing thee, and sayest thou who touched me? But Jesus said, Some one did touch me: for I perceived that power had gone forth from me. And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing. But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what had been done to her, when she saw that she was not hid, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth: and declared in the presence of all the people for what cause she touched him, and how she was healed immediately. And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good cheer: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague. And the woman was made whole from that hour.

While he yet spake, there cometh one from the ruler of the synagogue’s house, saying, Thy daughter is dead: why troublest thou the Master any further? But Jesus not heeding the word spoken, saith unto the ruler of the synagogue, Fear not, only believe, and she shall be made whole. And when they came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, he suffered not any man to enter in with him save Peter and James and John the brother of James, and the father of the maiden, and her mother. And when he was entered in, he beholdeth the flute-players and the crowd making a tumult, and many weeping and wailing greatly. But he saith unto them, Give place: why make ye a tumult and weep? the child is not dead but sleepeth. And they laughed him to scorn, knowing that she was dead. But he having put them all forth, taketh the father of the child and her mother, and them that were with him, and goeth in where the child was. And taking the child by the hand, he saith unto her, Talitha cumi; which is, being interpreted, Damsel, I say unto thee, Arise. And her spirit returned, and she rose up immediately, and walked, for she was twelve years old; and he commanded that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed straightway with a great amazement; but he charged them much to tell no man what had been done. But the fame hereof went forth into all that land.

The maiden raised—The woman healed

(The Saviour of the World, Vol III Book III Poem XXXII)

The Raising of Jairus’ Daughter by Gerbrandt van den Eeckhout

The little maid was sick; how fair she lay,—
Her beauty quick-consuming in decay!
Father and Mother hung o’er their one child,
Refraining for her sake their ’plainings wild:

Then one came in and spake of Jesus’ power,
Said, He was nigh at hand that very hour—
“Go, fetch Him to the house!” the Mother cries;
And spurred by eager hope the Father flies:

Ere very long he met Him on the way,
But hemmed in by vast crowd; what hope to say
That potent word, a father’s passionate prayer,
Should move Him to compassion? How declare

To Him, in midst of multitude, how dear
The little Daughter, lay to death so near!
But now, Jairus presses through the crowd,
Falls low at feet of Jesus, cries aloud,—

“My little daughter is at point to die,—
E’en now she might be saved, wert Thou but by!
Come, haste Thee to the house kind hands to lay,—
With healing touch drive fell disease away!”

The Master said no word, but rose and went;
Disciples, multitude, with one consent
Pressed on and thronged the Saviour; lo, a pause,—
Christ Jesus stopped and cried—(now what the cause?)

“Who touched my garments?” All the crowd denied,
And Peter, ever forward, stood and cried,—
“Master, Thou seest men throng Thee round about,
Why askest then who touched Thee?”—“From without,

One touched, for virtue hath gone forth from Me:”
Then looked He round that trespasser to see:
A woman, trembling, shamed, her act revealed,
How she had dared to touch Him and—was healed!

For twelve long years—the time the child had seen
All her glad days—had this poor woman been
Deprived of joy in living by disease;
Of means to live, drained by physicians’ fees!

She heard of Him nor money asked nor price;
Secret, contrived a woman’s shy device;
“For if I can,” saith she, “but touch the hem
Of His garment, lo, a single touch shall stem

Tide drains my life away!” So she drew near,
Touched, and was healed: but durst not, she, appear
Before His face to own the thing she’d done;
And healing got she as by stealth alone!

A hungry man snatches a loaf and flies,—
But had he waited, seen the kindly eyes
Of liberal baker on his famished face,
He had been bold to ask a loaf, of grace,

Not furtive steal it, adding shame to need:
And this the lesson the dear Lord took heed
To add to healing the shamed woman took,
The while love waited for her in His look!

Then, gently, “Daughter, be thou of good cheer,
Thy faith hath made thee whole; go home, nor fear!”
“Daughter,” saith He, “so worthless I, and bad!”
His word beyond His healing made her glad!

Meantime the ruler waited, hot in wrath;
Now who was this presumed to cross his path?
Sudden his anger cooled; from house one came—
“Why troublest thou the Master? All’s the same

To her thou lovedst if He come or stay;
Thy daughter’s dead, her spirit passed away!”
The Lord, who knows the ache of every breast,
To sorrowing father word of cheer addressed,—

“Nay, heed not what they say; do thou believe,
And, lo, thy living child thou shalt receive!”
As they draw near the house, the mourners’ cries,
Sombre and shrill, from stricken home arise:

The crowd urged forward, but the Lord forbade:
His four disciples only with Him stayed,—
The maiden’s father, mother, these the few
Suffered by Him about as near He drew

To th’ young dead maiden. Shrilly flutes annoyed,
The crowd’s loud mourning tumult, peace destroyed!
“Give place,” saith He, “why make ye this ado?
The child but sleepeth; she shall wake anew.”

They laughed in scorn, knowing that she was dead.
He put them forth, and drawing near the bed,
(Only the maiden’s parents standing by,
And the four who followed Him): “Maiden, ’tis I,

Who come to bid thee rise!” He took her hand,
So tender to the tender maid, bade “Stand!”
Her spirit come again, she rose and stood,
Lifted her eyes in hardly conscious mood,—

Whence had she come? What wonders might she tell
To her rejoicing parents, how there fell
Upon her ear, removed from sounds of earth,
Voice able, there, her spirit to bid forth

From where is never substance, touch or sound;—
Frail voyager come back from the Profound
Where spirits be, to take her place again,
A little daughter in the homes of men!

But He was there Who called the darling child,
Assured already by His aspect mild:
He bade them give her tender care and food;
And while He blessed the child, her parents stood

Astonished out of measure at the might
Of Him had known to summon from the night
Of awful Death their Daughter!—“See ye keep
A secret, how the Maid was waked from sleep!”

Shall we wake up, dear Lord, and find Thee there—
Uplifting naked Soul with tender care?
If death be but a tryst we keep with Thee,—
Lo, we are coming, Lord, our babes and we!

St. Mark. v. 21-43.
St. Luke viii. 40-56.
St. Matthew ix. 18-26.

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