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Naaman the Syrian

by | Jan 9, 2016 | Miracles, Obedience, Poems

Covered in my leprous botch to the prophet I came
Laden with gifts and presents, all trappings of my fame
But he disregarded my cultural prejudice and pride
Sent me a cryptic message, but did not come outside.

Chorus:- Dip, Naaman,dip; dip Naaman, dip,
Into the Jordan’s waters let your body slip
Your leprosy will truly flee, new flesh you’ll eventually see
So dip, Naaman, dip.

In anger and frustration I ordered my chariot turned
But my servants soon reminded me of the healing for which I yearned,
Grudgingly I acquiesced, but not before
I had pronounced my prejudice for Israel once more.

Chorus

‘Jordan, muddy stream. dirty dribble, not even in flood
Are not Arbana and Pharpar in Damascus better, not just good?’
Nothing in Israel with Syria can compare
Should I be so insulted? This just isn’t fair!

Chorus:- Dip, Naaman, dip

.And so I heeded the good counsel of my faithful retinue
I dipped and I resurfaced and inspected my physique
To my reluctant horror no new flesh did I view
No change apparent, my future still looked askew.

Chorus:- Dip again, Naaman, dip again
Water may seem dirty, but you’ll not dip in vain
Think not of the muddy stream but of your ultimate dream
So dip again Naaman, dip again.

In handing out the orders I brook no repetition
Yet here was I, Naaman, yielding to another’s condition
Fourth time, fifth time, sixth time, I’m tired of this immersion
‘Just once more’, they encouraged me,’ you’ll experience your conversion’.

Chorus:- So dip, Naaman, dip

So the seventh time I dipped me in Jordan’s muddy tide
Without total obedience, a leper I would have died
Will my wife recognise me now that I am brand new
Bless the little serving maid, she spoke, oh, so true
I now proclaim to you, I now spread it abroad
Healed are all the nations who trust in Israel’s GOD!

So dip again, unbeliever, unbeliever dip again
Water may be dirty, but you’ll not dip in vain
The God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, is here to succour you,
So dip again, believer, and the blessings will accrue.

Back to Syria, with my master, I must now return
To worship with him I’m compelled, but in my heart I’ll burn,
He’ll lean on me to bow to his god, and unwittingly I’ll bow,
But with loads of earth from Israel’s soil within my prayer room
I’ll honour Israel’s God who saved me from certain doom.

By Caroline Marshall-Fairbairn.

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