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A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief

“A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” Project — Verse 2

Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief Verse 2

Verse 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.