Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/288

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To him who lives a moving pestilence, Whose foot-print is pollution to the earth, From whom the vilest wretch shrinks back aghast With terror and abhorrence. Now farewell. No, no! I cannot, will not let thee go. I will go with thee ; happier far to share The horrors of the outcast leper's fate Than though the world were mine, apart from thee. How can I live within thy noble halls, And lay me down and sleep in that alcove, On downy pillow, ' neath embroider'd silk,. The golden fringe, of which lies heavily Upon the marble pavement ; while I know That thou art outcast, perishing, perchance. On the bare earth, unshelter'd and alone, With none to aid or soothe thee. I will go And share thy sufferings ."

"It may not be Thy pangs would add to mine an, hundred fold. Could I endure to see thy fair young form Made horrible by this white pestilence ? No-let me have amid my sufferings One consolation when I think of thee, And deem thee crown'd with blessings. " Dost thou faint? Mine arm may not sustain thee ; fair young flow'r How beauteous is thy drooping loveliness. Now while thine eyes are clos'd, and thy rich voice No longer chains my spirit, I will go. Farewell ! Farewell forever! Oh, praise the Lord, Theresa ! Praise the Lord, For he hath heal'd thy Leper. Oh, the bliss Of this embrace ; this sunrise o'er the night Of our long deep despair. The blessedness Of such a waking from the hideous dream Of misery such as ours. Bless thee my wife For thy fond love, and holy constancy To the poor outcast. Heaven reward thy truth ; I have not words to thank thee." "Speak not thus My love, my rescued treasure. Thank not me ;" To God, the merciful, belong all thanks. 1 And the physician whom he sent to thee, He merits at our hands a rich reward. When was the Leper ever cleans'd till now ? Indeed I fear this bliss is all a dream, Or thou a wretch imposing on my love, In my lost husband's name. Forgive the word, I see I am convinc'd. But where is he To whom we owe so much. What can we give That will express our gratitude for all That he has done for us. What shall we give ?" "Our hearts Theresa. We will give our hearts. The man that heal'd me was the Nazarene Abhor'd by our proud rulers, and chief priests, Whose followers are expell'd the synagogues , And hated by our nation. Yet I know That he is the Messiah that should come Of David's royal lineage, and reign A glorious king forever. VOL. II.- 7

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"To the wild In which I sought to hide my wretchedness From scorn, or heartless pity, came the fame Of this all healing Jesus ; and I felt That he had power to save me, and went forth Trembling with hope to seek him. Oh, my wife Could'st thou but look upon him. Beautiful He is beyond description. Tall and fair, With dark brown locks, parted from his clear brow, Smooth o'er the perfect temples, waving thence In curls of perfect beauty ; and his eye So clear, so powerful, and so full of love, So rich in their expression when they dwell In kind compassion on the suffering poor, Or turn with pride subduing stern reproof On stubborn sin, and haughty arrogance. I look'd upon him, and my very soul Seem'd gushing forth to meet him, as he came In native majesty, serenely great ; Amid the servile multitudes that prest And knelt to kiss his garment. I advanc'd, The crowd gave way, they would not touch a form Of pestilence like mine. Low at his feet I knelt, and humbly supplicated, ' Lord If thou art willing thou canst make me clean.' He look'd upon me with such pitying love, And reaching forth his hand, (oh, what a hand And arm is his) he touch'd me and replied 'I wilt that thou be clean.' Oh, how that touch And voice omnipotent, thrill'd through my soul. Rushing in swelling rapture to my heart, And circling through my veins, while all my flesh Was chang'd to health and beauty. Oh, the bliss ! The thrilling, life-renewing extacy Of that extatic moment, when my soul And mortal body were renew'd and chang'd, By the pure influence of Almighty love. I felt at once that our Immanuel, God shrined in manhood, had perform'd my cure. But as I worship'd him he bade me go Nor speak of Him, but offer to the priest The accustom'd gift. In this I will obey, But I must speak of him, for all my soul Is flooded with his love. Earth never bore The impress of a foot perfect as his, Who walks from place to place, a homeless one Dispensing blessedness in all his ways. His matchless hands impart the richest gifts ; Health to the sick, youth's vigor to the lame, Speech to the dumb, and hearing to the deaf, Sight to the blind, and reason's priceless light To lunatics, and fierce demoniacs. "Oh, could'st thou see him stand serenely calm Amid the rolling billows of the crowd That press around him, while some trembling wretch Is struggling through the throng to reach his feet, Where as he bends mute expectation holds Her empire o'er the attentive living flood, A murmur like the converse of the waves Stirs the dense concourse. Then a mighty shout Swells up to heaven, and melts in echoes down Upon the distant hills. The afflicted one