A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief

A poor way­far­ing man of grief

Hath oft­en crossed me on my way

Who sued so hum­bly for re­lief

That I could nev­er an­swer nay.

I had not pow­er to ask his name

Whereto he went

or whence he came;

Yet there was some­thing in his eye

That won my love; I knew not why.

Once

when my scan­ty meal was spread

He en­tered; not a word he spake

Just per­ish­ing for want of bread.

I gave him all; he blessed it

brake

And ate

but gave me part again.

Mine was an an­gel’s por­tion then

For while I fed with ea­ger haste

The crust was ma­nna to my taste.

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.

I ran and raised the suf­fer­er up;

Thrice from the stream he drained my cup

Dipped and re­turned it run­ning o’er;

I drank and nev­er thirst­ed more.

’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew

A win­ter hur­ri­cane aloof.

I heard his voice abroad and flew

To bid him wel­come to my roof.

I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest

And laid him on my couch to rest;

Then made the earth my bed

and seemed

In Eden’s gar­den while I dreamed.

Stripped

wounded

beat­en nigh to death

I found him by the high­way side.

I roused his pulse

brought back his breath

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.

In pris’n I saw him next

con­demned

To meet a trai­tor’s doom at morn.

The tide of ly­ing tongues I stemmed

And hon­ored him ’mid shame and scorn.

My friend­ship’s u­tmost zeal to try

He asked if I for him would die.

The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill

But my free spir­it cried

I will!

Then in a mo­ment to my view

The strang­er start­ed from dis­guise.

The tok­ens in His hands I knew;

The Sav­ior 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;

Fear not

thou didst them un­to Me.