Play now a history of A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief
A Great Poem and also a Great Hymn!
A Great Poem and also a Great Hymn!
The Stranger and his Friend
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,
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 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.
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.
’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, I cheered my guest --
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.
Stripped, 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.
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 midst 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 darted from disguise;
The tokens in His hands I knew --
My 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.”
Poem by James Montgomery. The Stranger and his Friend. In Pelican Island and Other Poems (pp. 122-124). Philadelphia: E. Littell and J. Grigg. 1827.
The Hymn is often known by its first line, "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief".
Hymn listening link: http://www.lds.org/music/library/hymns/a-poor-wayfaring-man-of-grief?lang=eng
