A leper had to keep apart from men and was shunned by them, but this one ventured to mingle with the ‘great multitudes’ that ‘followed’ Jesus, till he reached His side.  He must have known something of Christ to have approached Him with a flicker of long-absent hope in his heart.  No doubt he had heard of some of the earlier miracles; and no doubt the crowd recoiled from him so that he could easily reach Jesus.  When he got there he worshipped, or, as Luke puts it, ‘fell on his face,’ and made his appeal.  It would be all the more piteous, because it was spoken in that feeble, hoarse voice characteristic of leprosy, and it was in itself most pathetic.  The poor creature has won his way to a surprising confidence, dashed with a yet more surprising diffidence and doubt.  He is sure of the power, but not of the willingness, of this wonderful healer.  ‘Thou canst,’ does not make him confident, because it is weakened by ‘If Thou wilt.’  Faith, desire, humility, and submissiveness are beautifully smelted together in the wistful words, which are all the more prevalent a prayer, because they do not venture to take the form of prayer.  To tell Jesus that His will was all that was needed to heal him was, as it were, to throw the responsibility for this continued misery on Him who could so easily deliver, if He only willed to do it.  But the hope which gleamed before his poor eyes was only a gleam, obscured by his ignorance of Jesus’ disposition towards him.  The lowly acquiescence, with which he leaves Jesus to decide whether he is to be freed from his horrible, living death, is very beautiful, and speaks of a patient, disciplined spirit, as well as of a profound insight into our Lord’s authority.  The leper does cling to the hope that Jesus does will to heal him, but he will not rebel if he is left shut up in his prison-house.  Surely in such a blending of trust, yearning, and acceptance of that Will, whatever it involved, there was the germ of discipleship.  Surely there was, at least, the beginning of a living union with Jesus, which would heal more than the leprosy of the flesh.

Mark gives the precious addition to the narrative, of a glimpse into the heart of Jesus, when he tells us that, ‘moved with compassion,’ He ’put forth His hand and touched him.’  Swift and, we may almost say, instinctive was the outgoing of pity from the heart, which was so pitiful because it was so pure, and laid on itself every man’s sorrow because it carried no burden of its own sin or self-regard.  That touch had deep meaning, but it was not done for the sake of a meaning.  It was the spontaneous expression of love, and revealed the delicate quickness of perception of another’s feelings which flows from love only.  The leper had almost forgotten what the touch of a hand felt like.  He had lived, ever since his disease was manifest, apart from others, had perhaps lost the embraces of wife and children, had walked alone in crowds, and had a heart-chilling circle cleared round