July 30

"Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth His hand, and touched him."—Mark 1:41.

THERE is no touch like the touch of Jesus. It brings life and health. It gives speech and strength and sight.

It is the touch of my Kinsman. It declares His sympathy, His brotherliness, the impossibility that He should recognise anywhere a sufferer without hastening to his aid. He is high above me, and yet He bends over me. He takes me to His heart, in spite of the leprosy of my corruption and the fever of my sin.

It is the touch of my Lord. It was, it is, the medium through which His divinity and omnipotence flow. The simplest and weakest agency, when Jesus is behind it, can move the mountains. Through it I shall feel the impact of His vivifying fingers. Through it I shall find an immediate pardon, and a new outlook, and a super-human strength.

It is the touch of my Priest. Priest He is by God's appointment. Priest who has clothed Himself in my flesh and blood. Priest whose sacrifice is no fleecy lamb from the fold, but His own body and soul. Priest who, when He lays His nail-pierced hand on me, imparts to me His redemption and His peace.

And it is the touch of my Teacher. These brotherly, powerful, redeeming hands of His are set before me for my pattern. I, too, am to bless the world of sinners and sufferers. I, too, am to place myself side by side with those I would help. "The man most man, with tenderest human hands, works best for man, like God in Nazareth."

He sent from above; He laid hold upon me; He drew me out of many waters.