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.
Introduction to the "Poor Wayfaring Man" project produced by students and staff mentors in the journalism program in the School of Communications at Brigham Young University.