Show the master s healing touch j he touched her hand and the fever left her he touched her hand as he only can with the bondro s skill of the great physician with the tender touch of the son of man the fever pain in the throbbing temples died out with the flush on brow and cheek the lips that had been so parched and burning trembled with thanks she could not speak the eyes where the fever light had faded looked up bv her grateful tears made dim and she rose and ministered in her house hold she u and unto him he touched her hand and the fever left her oh we need his touch on our fevered hands the still cool touch of the man of sor rows W ho knows us and loves us and under stands so mahy a life Is one fong fever A feyer of restless suspense and care A fever of getting a fever of fretting A fever of hurrying hurri ing here and there oh what if in winning the praises of others we should lifs at last the king s well done it our self wrought tasks in the master s vineyard yield nothing but leaves at the set of the sun he touched her hand and the fever left her oh blessed of the man divine so beautiful to arlee and serve him when the fever Is gone from your life and mine it may be a fever of restless serving with heart all thirsty for love and praise and ees all aching and strained with yearnings toward self set goals in the future das or it may be a teer of spirit anguish some tempest 0 borrow that dies not down ti 1 the cross at last Is in meekness lifted and the head bows low for the thorny crown or it may be a fever of pain and anger when the wounded spirit Is hard to bear and only the lord can draw forth the arrows lett careless cruelly rankling there whatever the fever his touch can heal it whatever the tempest his voice can still there Is only joy as we do his pleasure there Is only rest as we choose his will and some day after life s fitful fever I 1 think we shall say in the home on high it the hands that he touched but did 1 b adding it matters little what else went by ah lord thou us altogether each heart s sore sickness whatever it be touch thou our hands bid the fever leav e us so shall we minister unto thee |