A little Israelitish maid,
By Syrian soldiers rudely made,
To bid her home adieu,
Was captive led to Naaman’s wife,
A slave to serve her all her life,
And all her bidding do.
But though idolaters among,
She ne’er forgot that it was wrong
To bow to gods of stone,
From God’s own Word she had been taught,
’Twas Israel’s gracious God who ought
To worshipped be alone.
She knew His power to heal disease,
To cleanse the leper, and give ease
To mind and body, too.
“Would God my master,” so she said,
“Were to Jehovah’s prophet led,
He would his health renew.”
The king of Syria heard the news,
Told Naaman no time to lose,
But get him healèd soon.
So God His sovereign love made clear,
Passed over Israel’s lepers near;
A Syrian gets the boon.