79 lines
5.3 KiB
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79 lines
5.3 KiB
HTML
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<title>BLB Hymns</title>
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<h2>A POOR WAYFARING MAN OF GRIEF</h2>
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<p align="center"><h3>“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” Matthew 25:40</h3></p>
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<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
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<img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_m_o_montgomery_j.jpg" alt="James Montgomery (1771-1854)" align="right" hspace="15" vspace="5" width="96.6666666666667" height="156.666666666667">
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<p><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_m_o_montgomery_j.html" target="_blank">James Montgomery</a> (1771-1854).
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<p><em>Music:</em> “Man of Grief,” <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_c_o_coles_g.html" target="_blank">George Coles</a> (1792-1858) </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_m_a_mangrief.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<ul>
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<li>“Sagina,” Thomas Campbell, 1835 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_s_a_sagina.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<li>“St. Crispin,” <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_e_l_elvey_gj.html" target="_blank">George Job Elvey</a>, 1862 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_s_t_stcrispn.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<li>“Sweet Hour,” <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_b_r_bradbury_wb.html" target="_blank">William Batchelder Bradbury</a>, <em>Golden Chain</em> (New York: 1861) </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_s_w_swethour.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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</ul>
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<hr>
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<div class="lyrics">
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<p>A poor wayfaring Man of grief<br>
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Hath often crossed me on my way,<br>
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Who sued so humbly for relief<br>
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That I could never answer nay.<br>
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I had not power to ask his name,<br>
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Whereto he went, or whence he came;<br>
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Yet there was something in his eye<br>
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That won my love; I knew not why.</p>
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<p>Once, when my scanty meal was spread,<br>
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He entered; not a word he spake,<br>
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Just perishing for want of bread.<br>
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I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,<br>
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And ate, but gave me part again.<br>
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Mine was an angel’s portion then,<br>
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For while I fed with eager haste,<br>
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The crust was manna to my taste.</p>
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<p>I spied him where a fountain burst<br>
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Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.<br>
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The heedless water mocked his thirst;<br>
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He heard it, saw it hurrying on.<br>
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I ran and raised the suff’rer up;<br>
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Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,<br>
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Dipped and returned it running o’er;<br>
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I drank and never thirsted more.</p>
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<p>’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew<br>
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A winter hurricane aloof.<br>
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I heard his voice abroad and flew<br>
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To bid him welcome to my roof.<br>
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I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest<br>
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And laid him on my couch to rest;<br>
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Then made the earth my bed, and seemed<br>
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In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.</p>
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<p>Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,<br>
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I found him by the highway side.<br>
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I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,<br>
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Revived his spirit, and supplied<br>
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Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.<br>
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I had myself a wound concealed,<br>
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But from that hour forgot the smart,<br>
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And peace bound up my broken heart.</p>
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<p>In pris’n I saw him next, condemned<br>
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To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.<br>
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The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,<br>
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And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.<br>
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My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,<br>
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He asked if I for him would die.<br>
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The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,<br>
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But my free spirit cried, “I will!”</p>
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<p>Then in a moment to my view<br>
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The stranger started from disguise.<br>
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The tokens in His hands I knew;<br>
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The Savior stood before mine eyes.<br>
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He spake, and my poor name He named,<br>
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“Of Me thou hast not been ashamed.<br>
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These deeds shall thy memorial be;<br>
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Fear not, thou didst them unto Me.”</p>
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