p. 6 | The Touch of Power by Eliza H. Morton

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Sep 10, 1912

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 39, No. 35.

The Touch of Power

By Eliza H. Morton

'Twas in a land of hills and vales, A land of sacred song, A land where shepherds kept their flocks, And twilight lingered long. A mother lay upon a cot, With fever in her veins. Altho the air was clear and pure, She seemed held down by chains.

The chains of sickness are the chains That swing the gate of death. The demons sought to open it, With poison in their breath. The mother struggled to arise, And struggled but to fail. All hope grew dim within her heart, Her cheeks grew strangely pale,

When, lo! One came into that room, And stood beside that bed. The world's Physician touched that hand; Quickly the fever fled. A Saviour from life's wearing pain! O healing touch divine! That woman rose and ministered, And said, "The glory Thine."

And so may we, in this our day, Touch oft the Master's hand, And feel earth's fever die away At His own blest command. O soothing touch! O touch of life! O Spirit calm and sweet! Thy touch the power will give to make Our ministry complete.

Portland, Maine.