willingly and at once leaves the house of feasting for that of
mourning. How near together, in this awful life of ours, the two
lie, and how thin the partition walls! Well for those whose feasts
do not bar them out from hearing the weeping next door.

As the crowd accompanies Jesus, His hasting love is, for a moment,
diverted by another sufferer. We never go on an errand of mercy but we
pass a hundred other sorrowing hearts, so close packed lie the griefs
of men. This woman is a poor shrinking creature, broken down by long
illness (which had lasted for the same length of time as the joyous
life of Jairus's child), made more timid by disappointed hopes of
cure, and depressed by poverty to which her many doctors had brought
her. She does not venture to stop this new Rabbi-physician, as He
goes with the church dignitary of the town to heal his daughter, but
lets Him pass before she can make up her mind to go near Him; and
then she comes creeping up behind the crowd, puts out her wasted,
trembling hand to the hem of His garment,--and she is whole.

The other evangelists give us a more extended account, but Matthew
throws into prominence, in his condensed narrative, the essential
points.

Notice her real but imperfect faith. There was unquestionable
confidence in Christ's power, and very genuine desire for healing.
But it was a very ignorant faith. She believes that her touch of the
garment will heal without Christ's will or knowledge, much more His
pitying love, having any part in it. She thinks that she may win her
desire furtively, and may carry it away, and He be none the wiser nor
the poorer for the stolen blessing. What utter, blank ignorance of His
character and way of working! What gross superstition! Yes, and withal