James Thomson (1834–1882)

HE came to the desert of London town

Grey miles long;

He wander’d up and he wander’d down,

Singing a quiet song.

He came to the desert of London town,

Mirk miles broad;

He wander’d up and he wander’d down,

Ever alone with God.

There were thousands and thousands of human kind

In this desert of brick and stone:

But some were deaf and some were blind,

And he was there alone.

At length the good hour came; he died

As he had lived, alone:

He was not miss’d from the desert wide,—

Perhaps he was found at the Throne.