"When he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion." — Matthew 9:36.
He trod the dusty pathways of the world,
And round him pressed the sick and sinful
In all their stark unloveliness.
By day and night they thronged him
With importunate cries or sadder speech
Of haggard eyes and mute imploring hands.
Did he seek rest upon the mountain—
At its foot a host, in meek submission,
Were waiting for the day and him.
Did he fare forth upon the quiet lake—
On distant shore a patient multitude
Awaited him. Close as his very shadow
A pleading train forever dogged his steps.
