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C. M.


The Pool of Bethesda.

The aged sufferer waited long

Upon Bethesda’s brink;

Till hopes, once rising warm and strong,

Began in fears to sink;

And heavy were the sighs he drew,

And fervent was his prayer,

For he, with safety full in view,

Still languished helpless there.

His hope grew dim; but one was nigh

Who saw the sufferer’s grief;

That gentle voice, that pitying eye,

Gave promise of relief.

Each pang that human weakness knows

Obeyed that powerful word;

He spake, and lo! the sick arose,

Rejoicing in his Lord.

Father of Jesus, when oppressed

With grief and pain we lie,

And, longing for Thy heavenly rest,

Despair to look on high,

O, may the Saviour’s words of peace

Within the wounded heart

Bid every doubt and suffering cease,

And strength and joy impart!

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