Healing The Nobleman's Son

HEALING THE NOBLEMAN'S SON

O'er old Capernaum the sun had set,
And evening shadows gathered, dark
and gray,
As silent watchers bent, with lashes wet,
Above the cot where a frail sufferer lay.

The stars shone out like gems of purest light,
And stormy Galilee was calm and mild;
The calm blue waters kiss the wave-girt shore,
And chant a requiem to the dying child.

"Father, come closer, closer to my bed.
And let me lay in thine my fevered hand,
Before the vale of death my feet shall tread,
Before I journey to that shadowy land."

''My child, strange rumors met my ear to-day ;
For I have heard of Christ, the mighty One:
He tarrieth now by Cana's gates they say;
I go to seek him, that he heal my son."

He went; his piteous plea the Master heard,
As even now he hears faith's earnest cry;
In tones of agony the father pleads,
''O sir, come down before my son shall die!"

Then, sweet as music, sounds the Master's
voice, —
Sweeter than birdsong in a desert drear:
Thy prayer is heard; O father, go thy way;
Thy little son shall live ; be of good cheer."

When from those sacred lips there falls the
word,
The pulse of health springs through that
fevered frame ;
Soon old Capernaum the news has heard.
And wondering souls believe on Jesus' name.