Poor Wayfaring Man

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

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.

“A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” Project – Introduction

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.