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1834–1863

THE STRANGER GUEST.

Helen Mar Johnson

Came a stranger, sad and weary, To my humble cot one day, And he asked me for a shelter,— Long and rough had been the way

He had traveled On that sultry summer day. Pain and grief had marred his beauty, And a tear was in his eye

As he asked me for a shelter, And then waited a reply. Tears did gather In mine own, I knew not why.

‘ Neath my humble roof I led him, As he crossed the threshold o'er “Peace to thee,” he softly whispered; Peace I never knew before

Filled my bosom, As the stranger filled my door. Be my friend and guest forever, In a trembling voice I said;

And he smiled and laid so gently One dear hand upon my head; It was bleeding, And I knew for me it bled!

“I will be thy guest forever,” Said the stranger unto me; “But the cost — say, hast thou counted — Counted what the cost will be?

Earthly pleasures, Wilt thou leave them all for me? “Wilt thou take my yoke upon thee? Wilt thou humbly bear my name?

Crush the risings of ambition, And the hopes of earthly fame? Freely suffering, For my sake, reproach and shame?”

Then I said, Both fame and pleasure Willingly I can resign; Let me only feel thy presence, Let me know that thou art mine,

And dear Saviour, All I have and am are thine!

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THE STRANGER GUEST. · Helen Mar Johnson · Poetry Cove