Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/487

Rh 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 clean
 * 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.

threads our hands in blindness spin No self-determined plan weaves in; The shuttle of the unseen powers Works out a pattern not as ours.

Ah! small the choice of him who sings What sound shall leave the smitten strings; Fate holds and guides the hand of art; The singer’s is the servant’s part.

The wind-harp chooses not the tone That through its trembling threads is blown; The patient organ cannot guess What hand its passive keys shall press.