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1826
A POOR wayfaring man of grief | |
| Hath often cross’d me on my way, | |
| Who sued so humbly for relief, | |
| That I could never answer, Nay: | |
| I had not power to ask his name, | 5 |
| Whither he went, or whence he came, | |
| Yet there was something in his eye | |
| That won my love, I knew not why. | |
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| Once, when my scanty meal was spread, | |
| He entered; not a word he spake | 10 |
| Just perishing for want of bread; | |
| I gave him all; he bless’d it, brake, | |
| And ate; but gave me part again: | |
| Mine was an angel’s portion then; | |
| For, while I fed with eager haste, | 15 |
| That crust was manna to my taste. | |
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| I spied him, where a fountain burst | |
| Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; | |
| The heedless water mocked his thirst, | |
| He heard it, saw it hurrying on: | 20 |
| I ran to raise the sufferer up; | |
| Thrice from the stream he drain’d my cup, | |
| Dipt, and returned it running o’er; | |
| I drank, and never thirsted more. | |
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| ’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew | 25 |
| A winter hurricane aloof; | |
| I heard his voice abroad, and flew | |
| To bid him welcome to my roof; | |
| I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest, | |
| Laid him on my own couch to rest; | 30 |
| Then made the hearth my bed, and seem’d | |
| In Eden’s garden while I dream’d. | |
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| Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, | |
| I found him by the highway side: | |
| I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, | 35 |
| Revived his spirit, and supplied | |
| Wine, oil, refreshment; he was healed; | |
| I had myself a wound concealed; | |
| But from that hour forgot the smart, | |
| And peace bound up my broken heart. | 40 |
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| In prison I saw him next, condemned | |
| To meet a traitor’s death at morn; | |
| The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, | |
| And honoured him midst shame and scorn; | |
| My friendship’s utmost zeal to try, | 45 |
| He ask’d, if I for him would die? | |
| The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill; | |
| But the free spirit cried, “I will.” | |
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| Then in a moment to my view | |
| The stranger darted from disguise; | 50 |
| The tokens in His hands I knew, | |
| My Saviour stood before mine eyes! | |
| He spake; and my poor name He named: | |
| “Of Me thou hast not been ashamed; | |
| These deeds shall thy memorial be; | 55 |
| Fear not; thou didst them unto Me.” | |
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