1 He touched her hand and the fever left her;
He touched her hand as only He can,
With the wondrous skill of the Great Physician,
With the tender touch of the Son of Man;
And the eyes, when the fever-light had faded,
Looked up, by her grateful tears made dim;
And she rose and ministered in His household,
She rose and ministered unto Him.
2 Ah! many a life is one long fever—
A fever of anxious suspense and care;
A fever of getting, a fever of fretting;
A fever of hurrying here and there.
Ah! what if the winning the praise of others
We miss at the last the King’s "Well done!"
If our self sought tasks in the Master’s vineyard
Yield nothing but leaves at set of sun.
3 Whatever the fever, His touch can heal it;
Whatever the tempest, His voice can still;
There is only joy as we seek His pleasure,
There is only rest as we choose His will.
And some day, after life’s fitful fever,
I think we shall say, in the home on high,
If the hands that He touched but did His bidding,
How little it matters what else went by!
Lord, touch our hands, let the fever leave us;
And so shall we minister unto Thee.
Edith Adeline Gilling Cherry United Kingdom 1872-1897. Born at Plymouth, Devon, she was disabled from the age of 16 months by poliomyelitis and walked with crutches. The death of her only sister, who died at age 4, when Edith was age 6, devastated her. She had a gift for poetry and wrote much before the age of 15. She had friends who helped her supporting Sunday school work and the YWCA. She was a gifted illustrator of cards and porcelain which she neatly embellished with flower or fern sprays and Bible texts. Of her verse, she said, they were given to me and all I had to do was write them down. Some of her poems ppeared in print in the periodical “The Christian”. She had two strokes in early life, and a 3rd, at age 25, took her… Go to person page >