The Good Samaritan

I

How kind the good Samaritan
To him who fell among the thieves!
Thus Jesus pities fallen man,
And heals the wounds the soul receives.

II

Oh! I remember well the day
When, sorely wounded, nearly slain,
Like that poor man, I bleeding lay,
And groan’d for help, but groan’d in vain.

III

Men saw me in this helpless case,
And pass’d without compassion by;
Each neighbour turn’d away his face,
Unmoved by my mournful cry.

IV

But He whose name had been my scorn
(As Jews Samaritans despise)
Came, when he saw me thus forlorn,
With love and pity in his eyes.

V

Gently he raised me from the ground,
Press’d me to lean upon his arm,
And into every gaping wound
He pour’d his own all-healing balm.

VI

Unto his church my steps he led,
The house prepared for sinners lost,
Gave charge I should be clothed and fed,
And took upon him all the cost.

VII

Thus saved from death, from want secured,
I wait till he again shall come
(When I shall be completely cured,)
And take me to his heavenly home.

VIII

There, through eternal, boundless days,
When Nature’s wheel no longer rolls,
How shall I love, adore, and praise
This good Samaritan to souls!