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,
Whither 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 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,
That crust was manna to my taste.
I spied him, where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mock’d his thirst,
He heard it, saw it hurrying on:
I ran to raise the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drain’d my cup,
Dipt, and return’d 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, I clothed, I cheered my guest,
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seem’d
In Eden’s garden while I dream’d.
Stript, 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 prison I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor’s death at morn:
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him midst shame and scorn
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked me if I for him would die?
The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill;
But the free spirit cried, “I will.”
Then in a moment to my view
The Stranger darted from disguise;
The tokens in His hands I knew,
My 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!