Samaria! thy winding ways
And shady paths are dear to me,
And all the shadow-haunted aisles
That skirt sweet Galilee.
The Man of Sorrows knew thee well—
He left His footprints everywhere—
And one may walk those paths to-day
And feel His Presence there.
And if, perchance, your foot shall fall
Upon some spot His sandal kissed—
As well it may—your soul will thrill,
Your eyes be dim with mist.
'Twas here the lepers called from far,
"Have mercy on us!" or we die:
And Mercy came to their relief—
Hushed their despairing cry.
One only turned to give Him praise:
"Where are the nine?" the Master said:
Alas! alas! they came not back,
For Gratitude was dead.
