Poem January 29, 1949 Issue

THE WOMAN IN THE THRONG

Edith Coonley Howes

Step by step she comes, she who would touch
The healing hem of that pure Christly robe.
Many there be that throng, that force, and clutch
At good, or seek through human will to probe
Their way into the Master's presence, filled
With curiosity to find what one
This be who speaks, and to, the sea is stilled,
Who bids the dead arise, and it is done.

Yet mark the power of prayer! She without strength
To fight the crowd reaches the Master's side,
Beholds the grandeur of God's man; at length
Stoops with a trust that will not be denied
To touch the hem of Truth. There at his feet
She hears the words that prove her faith complete.

Edith Coonley Howes

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