She came un­to Je­sus, her heart filled with grief,
She called to Him, Mas­ter, O grant me re­lief;
My daugh­ter is sick, she is sore­ly op­pressed;
O grant my pe­ti­tion and heal her dis­tress.

Her cry was un­heed­ed, in vain did she pray,
Until His dis­ci­ples said, Send her away;
Then Je­sus re­buk­ing­ly said, Not to thee,
To the lost sheep of Is­ra­el, sal­va­tion is free.

’Tis time, Lord and Mas­ter, yet,
O hear my pray­er,
I ask but for crumbs from Thy ta­ble to share;
Thou sure­ly wilt not send me emp­ty away;
O hear my pe­ti­tion, and heal her to­day.

Then Je­sus spake to her, in tones all di­vine,
Be it as thou wilt and no longer re­pine;
So great is thy faith, be it now un­to thee,
All things that thou ask­eth, thy daugh­ter is free.