A friend I possess, whose whispers just said,
     "God's peace!" to my night-watching mind.
    When daylight is gone and darkness brings dread,
     He ever the way can find.

    He utters no word to smite and to score;
     He, too, has known sin and its grief.
    He heals with his look the place that is sore,
     And stays till I have relief.

    He takes for his own the deed that is such
     That sorrows of heart increase.
    He cleanses the wound with so gentle a touch,
     The pain must give way to peace.

    He followed each hope the heights that would scale
     Reproached not a hapless descent.
    He stands here just now, so mild, but so pale; - 
     In time he shall know what it meant.

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