Dr. Quick, We Are All Of Your Children When We Come To The Hospital Poem by James McLain

We come with fear upon our lips,
With weary hands and trembling sight,
Yet find within your fingertips
A healing touch, a guiding light.

Your voice is soft, your manner bright,
A steady shore where you're light is bright,
You turn the dark to morning white,
And soothe the hearts that throb and ache.

Kindness shapes the words you say,
Compassion walks beside your stride,
No soul is ever turned away—
You hold them all with patient pride.

With humble grace and eyes that see,
You hear the cries both loud and small,
For in your care, with certainty,
We know your love can heal us all.