1. 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 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 sufferer 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. 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.
6. In prison 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!”
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 hast not been ashamed; These deeds shall thy memorial be, Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”