The New Samaritan

A weary Traveller walk'd his way,
With grief and want and pain opprest.
His looks were sad, his locks were grey;
He sought for food, he sigh'd for rest.

A wealthy grazier pass'd--"Attend,"
The sufferer cried--"some aid allow!"--
"Thou art not of my parish, Friend;
Nor am I in mine office now."

He dropt, and more impatient pray'd--
A mild adviser heard the word:
"Be patient, Friend!" he kindly said,
"And wait the leisure of the Lord."

Another comes!--"Turn, stranger, turn!"
"Not so!" replied a voice: "I mean
"The candle of the Lord to burn
With mine own flock on Save-all Green;

"To war with Satan, thrust for thrust;
To gain my lamb he led astray;
The Spirit drives me: on I must--
Yea, woe is me, if I delay!"

But WOMAN came! by Heaven design'd
To ease the heart that throbs with pain--
She gave relief--abundant--kind--
And bade him go in peace again.