Aline Barros - Milagres De Jesus Lyrics
Lyrics
O cego de Jericó não via e fazia assim O cego de Jericó não via e fazia assim O cego era triste porque Não podia ver iê iê iê iê iê Mas encontrou Jesus e agora vai dizer:
Eu posso ver, eu posso ver, eu posso ver Agora eu tenho a luz Eu posso ver, eu posso ver, eu posso ver O poder de jesus
Na Galileia um aleijado sem Jesus Andava torto assim Na Galileia um aleijado sem Jesus Andava torto assim E o final dessa história Pra quem quiser saber iê iê iê iê iê Ele encontrou jesus e agora vai dizer:
Eu vou correr, eu vou correr, eu vou correr Feliz eu vou viver Eu vou pular, eu vou pular, eu vou pular E a Jesus vou adorar
A viúva de Naim estava chorando assim A viúva de Naim estava chorando assim Mas jesus no caminho com ela se encontrou Tendo de volta seu filho a viúva então cantou Por quê?
O filho dela levantou, o filho dela levantou O filho dela levantou, ele ressuscitou O filho dela levantou, o filho dela levantou Glória a Deus! Ele ressuscitou
É assim que Jesus fez, é assim que Jesus faz Prodígios, milagres, maravilhas e sinais É assim que jesus fez, é assim que jesus faz Prodígios, milagres, maravilhas e sinais
O que não via assim, agora vê assim O que andava assim, agora corre assim A que chorava assim, agora canta assim...
Video
Milagres de Jesus - Aline Barros & Cia 3 (Oficial)
Meaning & Inspiration
Teaching theology to children is a high-stakes balancing act. If you lean too far into abstraction, you lose them; if you lean too far into mere entertainment, you lose the Gospel. Watching Aline Barros navigate these narratives—the blind man, the crippled man, the widow of Naim—I’m struck by how easily these stories can become reduced to a “Jesus fixes my problems” vending machine.
But look at the mechanics of the song. It doesn’t start with the benefit; it starts with the brokenness. "O cego era triste porque não podia ver." Before the healing, there is the recognition of a lack. That’s a liturgical necessity that we often strip out of adult worship sets in favor of constant victory. We forget that the "I can see" only carries weight if the "I was blind" remains a haunting reality in our memory.
When we move into the chorus—"Eu posso ver, eu posso ver, eu posso ver / Agora eu tenho a luz"—my mind shifts to the interplay between physical restoration and the light of the world. In the Gospel of John, Jesus clarifies that physical blindness is often a precursor to revealing the condition of our own souls. I wonder, when the children sing this, are we teaching them that Jesus is a miracle worker of flesh and bone, or are we helping them grasp that he is the source of perception itself?
The transition to the widow of Naim is where the song gets heavy for me. "O filho dela levantou, ele ressuscitou." It’s jarring. It’s not just a nice little story about a sad day turned around; it’s a terrifying, beautiful intrusion of life into the territory of death. It echoes Luke 7:15, where the dead man sat up and began to speak. Bringing that energy into a kids' song is daring. It anchors the "miracle" in the authority of the Resurrector, not just the kindness of a healer.
Yet, I find myself lingering on the tension in the final lines: "É assim que Jesus fez, é assim que Jesus faz." This is where the liturgical architecture feels a bit fragile. If we teach that Jesus always makes the crooked walk and the dead rise in the immediate sense, where do we place the children who walk into our churches with unhealed hurts or losses that don't end in resurrection this side of heaven?
The song leaves the congregation in a state of high-octane celebration. It lands on the "Glória a Deus!" which is a firm place to rest, but it asks us to bridge a gap. It asks the singer to reconcile the historical miracle with their present reality. I suspect that for the child singing this, the "miracle" isn't an abstract concept—it’s the hope that the person they are singing about is still in the business of interrupting funerals and opening eyes. It’s a bold claim, and perhaps one that requires us, as adults, to be ready for the questions that come when the music stops and the world stays broken.