Did not the blind man’s heart beat high with joy
When told, “Jesus of Nazareth passeth by”?
At that all-powerful name, long, dreary years
And days of misery and nights of tears
Are like a dismal dream, and a bright dawn
Seems rising o’er his heart, a rapturous morn;
His blood, long chilled by wretchedness and pain,
Flows with a warmer current through each vein,
And, by unwonted strength impelled, his voice
Rose clear and loud above the mingled noise;