A Poor Wafaring Man of Grief
James Montgomery, George Coles
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1. A poor wayfaring man of grief
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   Hath often crossed me on my way
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   Who sued so humbly for relief
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   That I could never answer nay.
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   I had not power to ask his name
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   Where to he went, or whence he came
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   Yet there was something in his eye
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   That won my love; I knew not why.

2. 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 blessed it, brake,
   And ate, but gave me part again
   Mine was an angel’s portion then,
   For while I fed with eager haste,
   The crust was manna to my taste.

3. 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 suff’rer up;
   Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
   Dipped and returned it running o’er
   I drank and never thirsted more.

4. ‘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 and clothed and cheered my guest
   And laid him on my couch to rest;
   Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
   In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.
5. Stripped, wounded, beaten night 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 conc3ealed,
   But from that hour forgot the smart
   And peace bound up my broken heart.

6. 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 my free spirit cried, “I will.”

7. Then in a moment to my view
   The stranger started from disguise.
   The tokens in his hands I knew,
   The Savior stood before mine eyes.
   He spake, and my poor name he named.
   “Of me thou has not been ashamed.
   These deeds shall thy memorial be;
   Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”