"There is lifting up"

She made her way amidst the Sabbath crowdThat thronged the temple—weary, crushed, and bowed;A toilsome climb she'd had o'er steep, rough road,Yet now in pain-dimmed eyes a glad hope glowed:To-day she was to see him—Son of God!What mattered all the rugged road she'd trod?What mattered years, full eighteen burdened yearsOf bended form, of bitterness and tears!What mattered all? Her heart could now but sing—She was to see him—Israel's hope! the King!She could in no wise lift herself—it mattered not—Her thought was lifted, thus was self forgot.

He came—he touched her with his tender hands;The Christ-compassion loosed her cruel bands.She could not lift herself, nay, but she soughtThe one whose vision healed her lifted thought.

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Reports from the Field
June 27, 1931
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