Hymnal: Fillmore's Harp of Zion
Date: 1867
Compiler: A D Fillmore
Publisher/Printer: R W Carroll & Co
First Line: A poor wayfaring man of grief
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Meter: DLM
Tune: Duane Street
Hymn Number: <no hymn number given>
Page Number: 043, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsA poor, wayfaring man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humble 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 work 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 potion then;
And, 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.
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 the free spirit cried, "I will!"
Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew
My Savior stood before my eyes!
He spake, and poor name he named:
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be:
Fear not; thou didst it unto me."