Hemorrhage

Hemorrhage

How many years have I suffered?
Does anyone know how I feel?
My body won’t cease its bleeding,
A curse physicians cannot heal.

Then I was told of Yeshua,
The promised one of prophesy.
They say He is the Messiah,
And I was sure He could heal me.

So by the Sea of Galilee,
I stood among a growing crowd.
Waiting for my Lord to appear,
And lift from me this bloody shroud.

But I’m not a wealthy woman,
For this boon, I have no payment.
My only chance at being healed,
Is to somehow touch His raiment.

I know I need only touch Him,
And my hemorrhage will be healed.
But will my Lord be wroth with me,
If my deception is revealed?

I can see Him now, approaching,
He will pass only feet from me.
It all feels almost preordained,
Like it’s part of my destiny.

As I reached out and touched His robe,
My health was instantly restored.
But when He asked who had touched Him,
I knelt and said: ‘twas I, my Lord.

He said: “Daughter, it was your faith,
Which was the cure to your disease.
Be healed, and go in peace, knowing
That, by your actions, I am pleased.”

So He continued on His way,
Toward paying a terrible price.
He would heal me a second time,
Through the blood of His sacrifice.