The Good Samaritan
He comes from out the ages dim—
The good Samaritan;
I somehow never pictured him
A fat and jolly man;
But one who’d little joy to glean,
And little coin to give—
A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,
Who found it hard to live.
His eyes were haggard in the drought,
His hair was iron-grey—
His dusty gown was patched, no doubt,
Where we patch pants to-day.
His faded turban, too, was torn—
But darned and folded neat,
And leagues of desert sand had worn
The sandals on his feet.
He’s been a fool, perhaps, and would
Have prospered had he tried,
But he was one who never could
Pass by the other side.
An honest man whom men called soft,
While laughing in their sleeves—
No doubt in business ways he oft
Had fallen amongst thieves.
And, I suppose, by track and tent,
And other ancient ways,
He drank, and fought, and loved, and went
The pace in his young days.
And he had known the bitter year
When love and friendship fail—
I wouldn’t be surprised to hear
That he had been in jail.
A silent man, whose passions slept,
Who had no friends or foes—
A quiet man, who always kept
His hopes and sorrows close.
A man who very seldom smiled,
And one who could not weep
Be it for death of wife or child
Or sorrow still more deep.
But sometimes when a man would rave
Of wrong, as sinners do,
He’d say to cheer and make him brave
‘I’ve had my troubles too.’
(They might be twittered by the birds,
And breathed high Heaven through,
There’s beauty in those world-old words:
‘I’ve had my sorrows too.’)
And if he was a married man,
As many are that roam,
I guess that good Samaritan
Was rather glum at home,
Impatient when a child would fret,
And strict at times and grim—
A man whose kinsmen never yet
Appreciated him.
Howbeit—in a study brown—
He had for all we know,
His own thoughts as he journeyed down
The road to Jericho,
And pondered, as we puzzle yet,
On tragedies of life—
And maybe he was deep in debt
And parted from his wife.
(And so ‘by chance there came that way,’
It reads not like romance—
The truest friends on earth to-day,
They mostly come by chance.)
He saw a stranger left by thieves
Sore hurt and like to die—
He also saw (my heart believes)
The others pass him by.
(Perhaps that good Samaritan
Knew Levite well, and priest)
He lifted up the wounded man
And sat him on his beast,
And took him on towards the inn—
All Christ-like unawares—
Still pondering, perhaps, on sin
And virtue—and his cares.
He bore him in and fixed him right
(Helped by the local drunk),
And wined and oiled him well all night,
And thought beside his bunk.
And on the morrow ere he went
He left a quid and spoke
Unto the host in terms which meant—
‘Look after that poor bloke.’
He must have known them at the inn,
They must have known him too—
Perhaps on that same track he’d seen
Some other sick mate through;
For ‘Whatsoe’er thou spendest more’
(The parable is plain)
‘I will repay,’ he told the host,
‘When I return again.’
He seemed to be a good sort, too,
The boss of that old pub—
(As even now there are a few
At shanties in the scru .
The good Samaritan jogged on
Through Canaan’s dust and heat,
And pondered over various schemes
And ways to make ends meet.
He was no Christian, understand,
For Christ had not been born—
He journeyed later through the land
To hold the priests to scorn;
And tell the world of ‘certain men’
Like that Samaritan,
And preach the simple creed again—
Man’s duty! Man to man!
‘Once on a time there lived a man,’
But he has lived alway,
And that gaunt, good Samaritan
Is with us here to-day;
He passes through the city streets
Unnoticed and unknown,
He helps the sinner that he meets—
His sorrows are his own.
He shares his tucker on the track
When things are at their worst
(And often shouts in bars outback
For souls that are athirst).
To-day I see him staggering down
The blazing water-course,
And making for the distant town
With a sick man on his horse.
He’ll live while nations find their graves
And mortals suffer pain—
When colour rules and whites are slaves
And savages again.
And, after all is past and done,
He’ll rise up, the Last Man,
From tending to the last but one—
The good Samaritan.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Good Samaritan
The sun shone through the window as I lay down on your carpet
Staring at the speakers - pretending to be tortured
And I never moved a muscle
No, I never moved a muscle
The sunlight turned to shadows, and the minutes turned to hours
Somebody turned the lights on, there was conversation, laughter
And you know just what I'm after - you know just what I'm after
You will look at me, and your curiosity is gonna get the better of you, will get the better of you
Standing next to me now - she's in the air I breathe
She says, "I'm marrying a rich man but he still thinks I'm a virgin
So I need a little action, I need a little fun
I need a good Samaritan, good Samaritan, good Samaritan, good Samaritan"
We raged around our cages until all the doors lay open
Then we fell upon each other in the fury and the frenzy
And we fought like Gods of Thunder - and we played like fives 'n under
And the only screams that mattered turn to whispers in my ear
You're my good Samaritan, you're my good Samaritan, you're my good Samaritan, you're my good Samaritan
Walking down the street - they make such a lovely couple
And she freezes when she sees me - but she don't have to worry
Cos I needed something deeper - I needed something longer
She said, "People who are weaker, need people who are stronger"
And I don't know what possessed you, was I just a one night stand
And not your good Samaritan, good Samaritan, good Samaritan, good Samaritan.
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Road to Jericho
On the road to Jericho
Mark the stricken one,
Moaning in his agony,
Prone beneath the sun.
Prone beneath the blazing sun,
Naked and alone,
Bleeding from a score of wounds,
Stricken to the bone.
Now his tossing arms lie still;
Now his moans grow faint.
Is there none to succor him
Publican or saint?
Publican or Pharisee
Are none passing by
On the road to Jericho
Is he left to die?
On the road to Jericho
Hurry, hurry, priest!
'Twere a sin wert thou away
From the saintly feast.
Haste thee, Levite, tarry not.
At the Temple waits
Holy work for thee to do;
Haste thee to the gates.
God will guard the stricken one.
Leave it all to Him.
(Now the blood dries on his wouds.
Now his eyes grow dim.)
Yet - ah tell it! Save the shame -
Save the name of Man!
On the road to Jericho
One Samaritan!
On the road to Jericho -
'Voices call 'Make way!
See, the Bishop's carriage comes;
He's in haste to-day.
He's in haste to tend a Prince.
Let the good man through,
He is lordly; he is rich . . .
Not like me or you.
He'll 'consider' your appeal.
He's no time to waste!'
O, despised Samaritan,
Haste thee hither, haste!
Priest and Levite pass along,
Bishops go their ways,
On the road to Jericho
As in olden days.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Good Samaritan
How kind the good Samaritan
To him who fell among the thieves!
Thus Jesus pities fallen man,
And heals the wounds the soul receives.
O! 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 heav'nly 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!
poem by John Newton
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Hunter
I was alone and sickly
It was a quarter of a moonlit night
I heard him cry through my window shade
And it filled me so full of fright
But I could not turn my back on him
I put on the back porch light
Can I help you, said the good samaritan
Can I help you, said the good samaritan
I brought him bread and a blanket
But I told him, you cant come in
You can sleep outside in the tool shed
Though a little rain comes in
Oh, I dont know you, youre a stranger
I dont know where youve been
You cant come in here, said the keeper of the inn
I dont want you in here, said the keeper of the inn.
But I couldnt sleep for the thinking
You know my night got so insane
I thought, maybe he was an angel
And I left him out in the rain
And what if he was the devil
Hed be coming after me again
But when I woke in the weary morning he was gone
When I woke in the weary morning he was gone
I thought maybe he was an angel
And I left him out in the rain
And what if he was the devil
Hed be coming after me again
When I woke in the weary morning he was gone
When I woke in the weary morning, lord, he was gone
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Overwhelmed
Worries of the 'morrow...
Anxieties of this day-
Torrential waves of doom and gloom...
Perpetuate our very ways;
So many of the negative-
With no inspiration to be found-
Only hopeless enigmas and tragedies...
Despairs sobbing-the only sound;
In fear of the next day-
As this day comes to a hurried end...
Dire straits of the coming fates...
Torn-but with no one to mend;
No sewing needles to stitch-
No Knight in shining armor to save...
No Good Samaritan with open arms...
Alas, all that 'tis left 'tis the grave;
The Golden Rule
***Just In Case There Are Any Doubts
I Am A Married Women...Not A Man! ! ! !
June 18,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Sonnet- I Search'd For God
I search'd for God in things of earthly mould;
I tried my best to search for Him ev'rywhere;
I sought him but found Him not; years had ro1l'd,
My heart told me, he must be somewhere near.
All life, I pray'd to Him in right earnest;
I called to Him to appear just but once!
I tried to seek Him ev'n when I did rest;
Where was He, the Almighty who weigh'd tonnes?
At last, I found Him in a child at play,
And on the road-side in a beggar's face;
He was the Good Samaritan en way,
I saw Him ’midst the blind persons in race.
If God is Truth, He dwells amongst the poor,
And in the hearts and minds kept pure for sure.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: I Search'd For God
I search'd for God in things of earthly mould;
I tried my best to search for Him ev'rywhere;
I sought him but found Him not; years had ro1l'd,
My heart told me, he must be somewhere near.
All life, I pray'd to Him in right earnest;
I called to Him to appear just but once!
I tried to seek Him ev'n when I did rest;
Where was He, the Almighty who weigh'd tonnes?
At last, I found Him in a child at play,
And on the road-side in a beggar's face;
He was the Good Samaritan en way,
I saw Him ’midst the blind persons in race.
If God is Truth, He dwells amongst the poor,
And in the hearts and minds kept pure for sure.
poem by John Celes
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No one would remember the Good Samaritan if he'd only had good intentions; he had money as well.
quote by Margaret Thatcher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The good Samaritan
The Good Samaritan
Suddenly there occurs an incident,
‘Tis a harrowing gory road accident,
The man affected, is on the mid-road, bed,
Lying helpless and bleeding from his head.
His mo-bike is smashed from the ride,
And his belongings all strewn aside.
The passers-by for a view encircle him,
Curious at the happening so grim.
Many a vehicle did zoom past,
None did halt for they hadn't any heart.
A renowned, reputed and lauded man,
Too passed by in his popular van.
People around rushed to him for help,
But he turned aside and gave a yelp.
There came forward a person, guileless,
And spotted the man lying forlorn and helpless.
He instantly swung into operation,
Gathered all the strewn things with precaution;
Dialled the ambulance for immediate action,
And proceeded to phone the victims' relation.
He accompanied the victim to the hospital,
Paid necessary amount and secured attention, vital.
When the victims ‘ relations arrived, in fact,
He handed over all the belongings in tact.
The doctors were happy with their medical cover,
As the patient was brought within the golden hour.
Soon the victim came back to life as a re-birth,
And every one heaved a heavy sigh of mirth.
As all turned to profusely thank the unknown man,
And to make good the fees which from his pocket ran,
The good Samaritan was nowhere to be seen around;
He acted just as per his goodness and conscience sound!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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A Good Samaritan Maybe
Some people call me blessed
others call me an angel,
but I think myself as none of these.
Just an ordinary person
who as he travels down life’s busy road,
will stop for a moment
to give a stranger a hand,
a stranger in distress.
That does not make me blessed
or very much an angel.
You could call me a Good Samaritan
and a friend to whom ever
I might chance upon
as I travel on my way.
23 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Good Samaritan
I like to be a Good Samaritan
to everyone I meet
whether it be personally
or virtually over the internet.
I only have my words
to help comfort them
through the hard times they face.
Reassuring words that someone
is there to listen to their pleas.
One of my friends figured
that helping others could damage me,
making me feel down as they are.
Quite the contrary,
I feel happy when I can raise a smile
and joyous with their laughter.
No, their problems do not get me down.
They only make me stronger and more determined
to help them get through whatever is ailing them.
I would also like to let them know
that I am always there
if their need again may arise
and they need someone to talk to.
29 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Sonnet: Reciprocal Love
’Tis our turn to play Good Samaritan;
We’ll see how best we can return your love;
You’d showed us all, you are so puritan;
The respect you had got ’midst us, we’ll prove.
You did your level-best in just one year!
You wished to do much more but weren’t allowed;
And though an expert in the human ear,
For good things done, may you be more hallowed.
We were so glad to work in your deanship;
We pray the Lord must give you ‘extension’;
We did our best and worked in good friendship;
You gave us back dignity sans tension.
We pray the transport Boss will be quite kind,
Allowing you to leave us more streamlined.
7-17-2001 by Dr John Celes
Dedicated to our beloved former dean
Dr.Ramalingam M.S.(E.N.T.)
IRT PMCRC&PMCH Perundurai
poem by John Celes
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The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: ""If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?"" But... the good Samaritan reversed the question: ""If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?""
quote by Martin Luther King, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reaching Out 2
Some days we reach out for someone
when our world is in despair.
We are confused with what life has given us
and feel our life spiralling down.
Then from no where two hands reach out
and with words of comfort
lift us back to solid ground.
The stranger who has helped us
has a face we cannot see;
they are not our god, but a stranger
from far across the sea.
The Good Samaritan whose arms
reach out to everyone
within their hour of need.
Are they one of God’s angels
or are they mortal like you and me?
It is a question we cannot answer,
however they are the answer to our prayers.
Someone who reaches out
and goes to the aid of whom
others sometimes fear.
7 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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Jesus
WHERE is poor Jesus gone?
He sits with Dives now,
And his dogs flesh their teeth
On Lazarus below.
Where is poor Jesus gone?
He is with Magdalen.
He doles her piece by piece,
Her pittance of shame!
Where is poor Jesus gone?
The good Samaritan,
What does he there alone?
He stabs the wounded man!
Where is poor Jesus gone,
The lamb they sacrificed? —
They've made God of his carrion
And labelled it 'Christ!'
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Paper God
ON A maiden VISIT TO OUR PLANET,
Old and bearded god once slipped and fell down
-not used to quick running at a zebra road -crossing
Someone behind helped him to the side walk and soda water
God was happy and thanked that ‘living Samaritan'.
a few yards as he had passed-by and it pinched him to pause
Only to realize that in the melee he had lost
The purse and all cash and credit cards he carried
‘clever Samaritan's charge for the services just lent
God was vexed and sent a SOS to His Father
To send Him a V-SAT MO - care of local GPO
The money promptly arrived, but was politely declined
on the grounds of lack of identity and for the want of a known surety
How our GOD would have felt of the universe, that He only has made
If the ‘Maker' himself is not spotted, identified or heard
Melted into the crowd as His mission was so aborted
Dear friend….. please watch out
For a silver- haired, broad eyed, charming man, if ever pops up.
poem by Santhana Louis
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The Wander-Light
And they heard the tent-poles clatter,
And the fly in twain was torn –
'Tis the soiled rag of a tatter
Of the tent where I was born.
And what matters it, I wonder?
Brick or stone or calico? –
Or a bush you were born under,
When it happened long ago?
And my beds were camp beds and tramp beds and damp beds,
And my beds were dry beds on drought-stricken ground,
Hard beds and soft beds, and wide beds and narrow –
For my beds were strange beds the wide world round.
And the old hag seemed to ponder
('Twas my mother told me so),
And she said that I would wander
Where but few would think to go.
"He will fly the haunts of tailors,
He will cross the ocean wide,
For his fathers, they were sailors
All on his good father's side."
Behind me, before me, Oh! my roads are stormy
The thunder of skies and the sea's sullen sound,
The coaster or liner, the English or foreign,
The state-room or steerage the wide world round.
And the old hag she seemed troubled
As she bent above the bed,
"He will dream things and he'll see things
To come true when he is dead.
He will see things all too plainly,
And his fellows will deride,
For his mothers they were gipsies
All on his good mother's side."
And my dreams are strange dreams, are day dreams, are grey dreams,
And my dreams are wild dreams, and old dreams and new;
They haunt me and daunt me with fears of the morrow –
My brothers they doubt me – but my dreams come true.
And so I was born of fathers
From where ice-bound harbours are
Men whose strong limbs never rested
And whose blue eyes saw afar.
Till, for gold, one left the ocean,
Seeking over plain and hill;
And so I was born of mothers
Whose deep minds were never still.
I rest not, 'tis best not, the world is a wide one
And, caged for an hour, I pace to and fro;
I see things and dree things and plan while I'm sleeping,
I wander for ever and dream as I go.
I have stood by Table Mountain
On the Lion at Capetown,
And I watched the sunset fading
From the roads that I marked down,
And I looked out with my brothers
From the heights behind Bombay,
Gazing north and west and eastward,
Over roads I'll tread some day.
For my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low;
I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Good Man
I ain't like the rest, I am (accessible)
One day U'll see that I'm the best
(I'm a super workin' man, mama)
If I am good then U are (accessible)
I am a good man
(Good man) {x2}
U walk around with your heart on the ground
U ain't got nobody and U're feelin' down
Maybe U've been lookin' on the wrong side of town
Listen...
I've been workin' 2 jobs just 2 make ends meet
2 U it might look like a dead end street
Where little boys give up, a good man sticks around ... yes he does!
So if U're lookin' 4 a good man (good man)
A super workin' lover papa
A good man (good man)
A money makin' real provider
Then give up, your search is over
I'm the man 4 U
(Good man)
U're sick of talkin' 2 men with no future?
Well, a trip around the world'd suit U fine
(True love, it don't cost nothin')
True love don't cost nothin'
Just 2 hearts beatin' in time
Oh, if U believe it, let me hear U say yeah, oh yeah
U got 2 give me a chance
Get it on
If U believe it, let me hear U say yeah, oh yeah
And we can find romance
I got, I got, I got, I got some super workin' love 4 ya
And if it's passion U're after
Oh girl, I can do the do (do the do)
Don't let my dirty hands fool U
I ain't gonna stop until U beg me, beg me, beg me 2
My ride got a 12 cylinder that's built 2 last
And if U let me love U baby, U'll forget about your past
Woman, I'm a super workin' lover man
If U hear me rappin' 2 U, tell me that U understand
Every good woman wants a good man
Let me hear U say yeah, oh yeah
U got 2 give me a chance
If U believe in love, let me hear U say yeah, oh yeah
We can find romance
Y-E-S we can
Every good woman needs a good man
A super workin' good lovin' papa (Good)
A long stridin', a real providin' (Good)
Money makin', clothes-off takin' good man (Good)
Think U know what I mean
A brother holding plenty of green
(Baby, here I am)
Baby, if U want my love, say yeah, oh yeah (Good man)
U got 2 give me a chance
Y-E-S we can
(Every woman wants a good man)
If U want my body, say yeah, oh yeah (Good man)
Give me a chance
Then U and me can be accessible
'Nuf said!
(Good man) {x2}
(I'm a super workin' man, mama)
(Good man
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Wanting To Be Understood
No one understands
No one comprehends the pain I feel
No one cares
What happens to me
No one cares
How I end up
Anger running so deep inside
I've been hurt on too many times
Pain strikes with every thought
Of how life used to be
Friends and loved ones lost
Relationships once had ignited
Everything in life killed
By one feeling
ANGER
Pain streaks through my veins
As I try to feel what I used to
As I try to imagine
The good old days
When everything was better
When someone actually cared
The pain never leaves
From way back when
Images stuck in my head
Thoughts never said
Life sinks into a hole
No one notices what happened
Disappeared and never returned
Best friends never again
More pain hits
Nothing ever the same
Anger so deep you want to kill
Given the chance you probably will
Hatred, pain, past memories relived
Wondering what is in store
How you hate the life you live
Want to hide
And never return
Die and never be seen
Live a different life than you lead
Get out and roam
You've tried before
Never quite got out that door
Always one more thing to do
Never time for just you
No one ever seems to care
Life was better somewhere else
Death seems so much better
But deep down inside
You know it's no the answer
Get out you scream
To your pain
Leave forever
And come not again
Hatred is the cause of this all
Nothing understood by those who care
They don't seem to know you're there
They hear but don't understand
They see but don't comprehend
Life so simple never repaired
Everything seems so useless there
Killing all around us
Between ourselves
Wanting to get out
Of this world we live
Death seems the answer
Yet never said
Tried so hard but never won
Anger towards ones your supposed to love
No more trust
To him you give
Hurt you one to many times
Permanent was the pain
Bruises from his anger you recieve
More anger you then get
Killing not the answer here
Wishing it was
So you could be free
One more freedom you would get
If he weren't around to hit
Anger can't be released anymore
Trouble is caused to much
Always more pain from it
What to do you do not know
Leaving for good would be so great
Getting out of something so bad
Worse than thousand about to die
poem by Dani Sears
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A tryst with fate! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
A ten year old with chilled water bottles in hand
Runs as cars halt, and traffic signal turns red.
On a hot sultry day, says to the lady, it’s a good brand.
Wipes his nose with his torn shirt sleeve, as it bled.
A kind man gently took him under the shade,
Uncapped and poured the chilled water on his head.
Drop by dropp fed him with spoon some lemonade.
But for the Good Samaritan, would he be dead?
In a short while, the boy came round, a lot flushed.
Looked at the elderly man, gratitude writ large on his face.
Son, rest a while, don’t go in Sun to sell water in a rush.
The boy lifted his hands and said, you came, its God’s grace.
Am the sole bread winner, as my father died in a cyclone.
Who can quarrel with what he ordains and wills…?
I don’t have the luxury or the time to sit and mourn,
Live in the past, or sit back and rest, when a wee bit ill.
Stoically stood up, and ran after the screeching cars.
Waving bottles in the air: please buy one for the road.
He should be in school, I thought watching from afar.
He learns all the things on the road… in no time had all sold.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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