How Kind the Good Samaritan

How kind the good Sa­mar­itan

To him who fell among the thieves!

Thus Je­sus pi­ties fall­en men

And heals the wounds the soul re­ceives.

Oh! I re­mem­ber well the day

When sore­ly wound­ed

near­ly slain

Like that poor man I bleed­ing lay

And groaned for help

but groaned in vain.

Men saw me in this help­less case

And passed with­out com­pas­sion by;

Each neigh­bor turned away his face

Unmoved by my mourn­ful cry.

But He whose name had been my scorn

(As Jews Sa­ma­ri­tans des­pise)

Came when He saw me thus for­lorn

With love and pi­ty in His eyes.

Gently He raised me from the ground

Pressed me to lean up­on His arm;

And in­to ev­ery gap­ing wound

He poured His own all-heal­ing balm.

Unto His church my steps He led

The house pre­pared for sin­ners lost;

Gave charge I should be clothed and fed

And took up­on Him all the cost.

Thus saved from death

from want se­cured

I wait till He again shall come

When I shall be com­plete­ly cured

And take me to His heav­en­ly home.

There through eter­nal bound­less days

When na­ture’s wheel no long­er rolls;

How shall I love

ad­ore

and praise

This good Sa­ma­ri­tan to souls!