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The Lady in the White Dress whom I helped into the Omnibus 252

SACRED POEMS.

SACRED POEMS.

THE HEALING OF THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS.

FRESHLY the cool breath of the coming eve
Stole through the lattice, and the dying girl
Felt it upon her forehead. She had lain
Since the hot noontide in a breathless trance-
Her thin pale fingers clasp'd within the hand
Of the heart-broken Ruler, and her breast,
Like the dead marble, white and motionless.
The shadow of a leaf lay on her lips,
And, as it stirr'd with the awakening wind,
The dark lids lifted from her languid eyes,
And her slight fingers moved, and heavily
She turn'd upon her pillow. He was there-
The same loved, tireless watcher, and she look'd
Into his face until her sight grew dim

With the fast-falling tears; and, with a sigh
Of tremulous weakness murmuring his name,

She gently drew his hand upon her lips,
And kiss'd it as she wept. The old man sunk
Upon his knees, and in the drapery

Of the rich curtains buried up his face;

And when the twilight fell, the silken folds.

Stirr'd with his prayer, but the slight hand he held

Had ceased its pressure-and he could not hear,

In the dead, utter silence, that a breath

Came through her nostrils-and her temples gave
To his nice touch no pulse-and, at her mouth,
He held the lightest curl that on her neck
Lay with a mocking beauty, and his gaze
Ached with its deathly stillness.

It was night

And, softly, o'er the Sea of Galilee,

Danced the breeze-ridden ripples to the shore,
Tipp'd with the silver sparkles of the moon.
The breaking waves play'd low upon the beach.
Their constant music, but the air beside
Was still as starlight, and the Saviour's voice,-
In its rich cadences unearthly sweet,
Seem'd like some just-born harmony in the air,
Waked by the power of wisdom. On a rock,
With the broad moonlight falling on his brow,
He stood and taught the people. At his feet
Lay his small scrip, and pilgrim's scallop-shell,
And staff-for they had waited by the sea
Till he came o'er from Gadarene, and pray'd
For his wont teachings as he came to land.
His hair was parted meekly on his brow,
And the long curls from off his shoulders fell,
As he lean'd forward earnestly, and still
The same calm cadence, passionless and deep-
And in his looks the same mild majesty-
And in his mien the sadness mix'd with power-
Fill'd them with love and wonder. Suddenly,