A master dandled the sick little child
Slowly spoke words so peaceful, mild
Then gave it back to his waiting parents:
'It will recover, please have some patience!'
There stood a doubting man nearby
'That's superstition and a lie!
How can a child with gentle words
get well again and step forwards?'
The master looked at him and said:
if those few words gave you a dread
why yet should they not be able
to heal it, help him getting stable?