ON THE CURE OF BARTIMEUS.
"Bartimeus, the blind man,
sat by the wayside begging.
And they say to him:
Be of better comfort:
arise, He calleth thee."
Out of the windows of my mind——
From my heart's idly open door,
My gaze the wide world wanders o'er,
And yet, alas! how blind, how blind!
My sight of things divine how dim!
Though there be not a single day
But Jesus passeth by the way;
All else I see, but blind to him.
Though rich, I seek the beggar's mite——
His beauty only do I prize;
And all is darkness to my eyes
Whilst he is hidden from my sight.
I hear a voice within my soul——
"Arise, of better comfort be,
And come: the Master calleth thee——
Thy faith shall also make thee whole."