At length, and as unobtrusively as possible, she came up, in the press of the people, behind Jesus, and stretched out her trembling hand, and in such a modest way touched the hem of His garment that no one saw it, not even His disciples, who were nearest the Saviour. Since no one saw her act, she thought no one needed to know it. Perhaps she was so careful that she even thought Jesus was not conscious of it. But to our Lord there was a difference between the touch of faith and the touch of the crowd. She was all too deeply conscious of her great need. She was carried along with the multitude, because she believed if she could get near enough to Jesus to touch Him, she would receive that which all her physicians were unable to bestow, namely, restoration to health. She was there for a blessing. The crowd was there through idle curiosity. They wanted nothing, only to see. They pushed through the thronged highway together, and as they did so talked about the simplicity of the great Man in their midst, were interested in Him because of His fame, discussed His origin, wondered at the growing opposition of the Scribes and Pharisees, but hoped some good would come of Him to the nation. The woman believed she would personally receive new life from Him. In this she was not disappointed, for “straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.” To her there was an inward consciousness, which could not be mistaken, of the staunching of a wound through which her life, for long years, had been slowly and yet surely ebbing, and she felt the rising tide of new existence and a return to wholeness. But now the scene changes. The great throng came to a halt. What has happened? one inquired of another. See! Jesus has turned around “in the press” and is sharply looking into the faces of those nearest Him, and demanding, “Who touched my clothes?”