 | [Poems by Smith in] The native poets of Maine |  |
165
THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
Unto the holy city came
Judea's hapless sons and daughters,
The paralytic, blind and lame,
To seek Bethesda's healing waters—
The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd
With kindly power from day to day;
And he that first its virtues prov'd,
Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.
Judea's hapless sons and daughters,
The paralytic, blind and lame,
To seek Bethesda's healing waters—
The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd
With kindly power from day to day;
And he that first its virtues prov'd,
Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.
Amid the throng who waited there,—
Judea's sons and daughters,—
A patient Hebrew many a year
Had watch'd the troubled waters.
And often at the healing hour
He feebly toward the fountain bore him,
But all too late to feel its power,
For one had always stepp'd before him.
Judea's sons and daughters,—
A patient Hebrew many a year
Had watch'd the troubled waters.
And often at the healing hour
He feebly toward the fountain bore him,
But all too late to feel its power,
For one had always stepp'd before him.
A stranger came and look'd awhile
On him who there in anguish lay,
Then kindly said, with holy smile,
‘Hebrew, arise and go thy way!’
As forth into the world that hour,
With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod,
‘I've felt,’ he cried, ‘the Almighty's power,
I've heard the voice of God.’
On him who there in anguish lay,
Then kindly said, with holy smile,
‘Hebrew, arise and go thy way!’
As forth into the world that hour,
With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod,
‘I've felt,’ he cried, ‘the Almighty's power,
I've heard the voice of God.’
| [Poems by Smith in] The native poets of Maine | |