TALITHA CUMI
JAIRUS at the feet of CHRISTUS.
O Master! I entreat thee! I implore thee!
My daughter lieth at the point of death;
I pray thee come and lay thy hands upon her,
And she shall live!
The Annotated Edition
TALITHA CUMI by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Read aloud in ~1 minOpen reading mode →
A desperate father named Jairus falls at Jesus' feet, pleading for him to come and heal his dying daughter.
- Themes
- death, faith, family
§01Quick summary
What this poem is about
A desperate father named Jairus falls at Jesus' feet, pleading for him to come and heal his dying daughter. The poem embodies that one, heartfelt plea — it's an urgent prayer. It comes straight from the Gospel story where Jesus answers by going to the girl and bringing her back to life with the Aramaic phrase "Talitha cumi," which means "Little girl, arise."
§02Themes
Recurring themes
§03Line by line
Stanza by stanza, with notes
JAIRUS at the feet of CHRISTUS. / O Master! I entreat thee! I implore thee!
Editor's note
The stage direction and opening cry establish the scene right away. Jairus, a synagogue ruler with a notable position, finds himself on the ground. The repeated verbs *entreat* and *implore* emphasize that one simple request won't suffice; the father is investing every bit of his being into this moment.
My daughter lieth at the point of death;
Editor's note
The phrase "at the point of death" feels stark and definitive, amplifying the sense of desperation. Longfellow chooses words reminiscent of the King James Bible, adding a sacred, almost ritualistic tone to the line. By not naming the daughter, the emphasis remains solely on the father’s sorrow instead of on her as an individual.
I pray thee come and lay thy hands upon her, / And she shall live!
Editor's note
The request is clear — *come*, *lay thy hands* — and the conclusion is presented not as a wish but as a fact: "she shall live." That exclamation mark is crucial. Jairus shows no doubt; his faith is unwavering, even in the darkest hour of his life. The poem concludes with that powerful statement, allowing the miracle to remain unmentioned and, as a result, even more impactful.
§04Tone & mood
How this poem feels
The tone is raw and urgent—this feels like a man who knows he has run out of time. There’s no calm reflection, no poetic distance. The repeated direct address (“thee,” “thee,” “thee”) creates a mounting pressure from start to finish. Beneath the desperation lies a remarkable confidence: Jairus isn’t questioning *if* Jesus can help, but rather asking that he *will*. This mix of panic and faith fuels the poem’s emotional intensity.
§05Symbols & metaphors
Symbols & metaphors
- Feet of Christus
- Falling at someone's feet is the most powerful sign of submission and appeal in the ancient world. When a synagogue ruler — a respected leader in the community — bows down like this, it shows that his pride and social status are insignificant when weighed against the life of his daughter.
- Laying on of hands
- The request to *lay thy hands upon her* goes beyond a simple healing ritual; it signifies a tangible, personal connection between the divine and the dying. Jairus is seeking for the sacred to make physical contact with the mortal — this gesture creates a link between two worlds.
- The daughter
- She never speaks or shows up directly in the poem, but she is the reason it exists. Her silence and absence make her both fragile and valuable — she is the blank space that holds all of Jairus's anguish.
§06Historical context
Historical context
Longfellow wrote this as part of his ambitious dramatic poem *Christus: A Mystery* (1872), a trilogy he spent nearly thirty years crafting. The trilogy dramatizes the story of Christianity across three eras, and this scene is taken from the first part, *The Divine Tragedy*, which revisits episodes from the Gospels. The story is based on Mark 5:21–43 and Luke 8:40–56, where Jairus, a synagogue ruler, pleads with Jesus to heal his daughter. As Jesus accompanies him, he receives the news that the girl has died — but he presses on and brings her back to life, saying the Aramaic phrase *Talitha cumi* ("Little girl, I say to you, arise"). Longfellow was particularly drawn to this story during a time of deep personal sorrow; he had lost his second wife, Frances, in a fire in 1861, and themes of death, faith, and miraculous restoration permeate much of his later work.
§07FAQ
Questions readers ask
It translates from Aramaic to "Little girl, arise" or "Little girl, I say to you, get up." These are the very words Jesus uses to bring Jairus's daughter back to life in the Gospel of Mark (5:41). Longfellow chooses this phrase as the title to hint at the miracle that isn’t depicted in the poem — it serves as a reminder of the ending the reader is already familiar with.
Jairus is a real figure from the New Testament — he served as a ruler of the synagogue, which means he was a respected religious leader in his community. His story is told in the books of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. When he kneels before Jesus, it holds weight because synagogue rulers and Jesus often had conflicts; however, his daughter's illness strips all that away, revealing just a concerned father.
Yes. It comes from *Christus: A Mystery* (1872), a three-part dramatic poem that Longfellow worked on for decades. This scene is found in the first section, *The Divine Tragedy*, which dramatizes events from the life of Jesus. The poem is structured like a script, featuring character names as stage directions.
The brevity is intentional. Longfellow reduces the moment to a single desperate speech — no narration, no description, only the father's voice. This shortness reflects the urgency: there’s no time for anything more. It also makes the reader feel like they’ve arrived mid-crisis, which is precisely where Jairus finds himself.
The poem doesn't follow a strict rhyme scheme — it's written in blank verse with a loose iambic pentameter. Lines such as "My daughter lieth at the point of death" flow naturally with ten syllables and alternating stress. The absence of rhyme gives it a sense of genuine, desperate speech instead of a refined song.
At its core, the poem explores the themes of faith and death—particularly, faith in the presence of death. It also delves into the love shared between a parent and child, as well as our natural inclination to search for something greater than ourselves when we feel helpless. The miracle occurs offstage, allowing the narrative to emphasize the human experience over the supernatural elements.
The Latin title *Christus* is the one Longfellow employs throughout the trilogy, adding a formal, almost liturgical distance to the work. This choice indicates that it’s a dramatic and poetic retelling instead of a personal devotional, keeping the figure feeling elevated and archetypal rather than relatable.
Longfellow lost his wife Frances in a tragic fire in 1861. The grief he felt was overwhelming, and his later poetry reflects deep themes of loss, death, and a yearning for healing. A tale about a father pleading for his child to return from death would have resonated deeply with him — *Christus* became, in part, a means for him to navigate his own struggles with mortality and faith.
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