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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416144" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A poor wayfaring Man of grief<br>Hath often crossed me on my way,<br>Who sued so humbly for relief<br>That I could never answer nay.<br>I had not power to ask his name,<br>Whereto he went, or whence he came;<br>Yet there was something in his eye<br>That won my love; I knew not why.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once, when my scanty meal was spread,<br>He entered; not a word he spake,<br>Just perishing for want of bread.<br>I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,<br>And ate, but gave me part again.<br>Mine was an angel’s portion then,<br>For while I fed with eager haste,<br>The crust was manna to my taste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I spied him where a fountain burst<br>Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.<br>The heedless water mocked his thirst;<br>He heard it, saw it hurrying on.<br>I ran and raised the suff’rer up;<br>Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,<br>Dipped and returned it running o’er;<br>I drank and never thirsted more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew<br>A winter hurricane aloof.<br>I heard his voice abroad and flew<br>To bid him welcome to my roof.<br>I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest<br>And laid him on my couch to rest;<br>Then made the earth my bed, and seemed<br>In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,<br>I found him by the highway side.<br>I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,<br>Revived his spirit, and supplied<br>Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.<br>I had myself a wound concealed,<br>But from that hour forgot the smart,<br>And peace bound up my broken heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In pris’n I saw him next, condemned<br>To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.<br>The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,<br>And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.<br>My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,<br>He asked if I for him would die.<br>The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,<br>But my free spirit cried, “I will!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then in a moment to my view<br>The stranger started from disguise.<br>The tokens in His hands I knew;<br>The Savior stood before mine eyes.<br>He spake, and my poor name He named,<br>“Of Me thou hast not been ashamed.<br>These deeds shall thy memorial be;<br>Fear not, thou didst them unto Me.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Montgomery">James Montgomery</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416144" data-title="A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief de James Montgomery" data-description="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..."></div>
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