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A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief

“A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” Project – Verse 5

A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief Verse 5

Verse 5 -Ecuador

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.