The Robe

If I touch the robe He's wearing, I will be
made whole and clean, was the thought of that
blessed woman, as the crowds pressed in between.
Blessed art thou, said the Master, as she said,
Lord, it was I, that reached out in faith and
touched thee, and was healed as you passed by.

by Anna "Maxine" Holt Leak

Other poems of ANNA "MAXINE" HOLT LEAK (2)

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