'Who yonder on the desert heath,
      Complains in feeble tone?'

'Who yonder on the desert heath,
      Complains in feeble tone?'
– 'A pilgrim in the vale of death,
      Faint, bleeding and alone.'

'How cam'st thou to this dismal strand
      Of danger, grief, and shame?'
-'From blessed Sion's holy land,
      By folly led, I came.'

'What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare?
      Whose fury laid thee low?'
– 'Sin for my footsteps twined her snare,
And death has dealt the blow.'

'Can art no medicine for thy wound,
Nor nature strength supply?'
– 'They saw me bleeding on the ground,
      And passed in silence by.'

'But, sufferer, is no comfort near
      Thy terrors to remove?'
– 'There is to whom my soul was dear,
      But I have scorned his love.'

'What if his hand were night to save
      From endless death thy days?'
– 'The soul he ransomed from the grave
      Should live but to his praise.'

'Rise then, O rise, his health embrace,
      With heavenly strength renewed;
And such as is thy Saviour's grace,
      Such be thy gratitude.'

~ Reginald Heber

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