A Poem written in the voice of the woman with the bleeding condition from Luke 8, who was healed when she touched the fringe of Jesus’ garment. In the poem, her inner monologue echoes Ruth’s blessing of Boaz, recognizing Christ as her true Kinsman-Redeemer.
I crept through the press of bodies,
A shadow in the crowd—
Twelve years of shame, twelve years of silence,
My voice too weak for sound.
No priest had called me clean,
No man had made me whole,
But hope whispered of a Redeemer
Who could ransom my soul.
The law that shut me out
Now led me to His side;
If I but touch His garment’s fringe,
I shall in Him abide.
My hand, trembling, brushed the hem—
And heaven’s river broke:
The crimson flood was stanched within,
My chains dissolved like smoke.
He turned, His eyes met mine,
The Lamb without a stain;
“Daughter, your faith has made you well—
Go free from grief and pain.”
Oh Kinsman, greater than Boaz,
Who stoops to claim the poor,
I lay my Ruth-like thanks before You,
Spread Your wing, my cure.
Once I gleaned in fields of sorrow,
Now I feast upon Your bread;
Once I bore the mark of exile,
Now I’m numbered with the blessed.
So I will sing of Your kindness,
My Redeemer, strong and near;
The hem of Your robe has healed me—
Forever I’ll persevere.
Reformed Faith Insights 