No roads I travel lead to Jericho,
But anywhere along the way I tread
There may be one whose suffering, I know,
Can best be satisfied with living bread.
The wounds that only Love can ever heal
May I assuage—the precious ointment break,
And to this lonely, suffering one reveal
The living bread of which he may partake.
This is my prayer: May I a neighbor be,
Like him who, mindful of his brother's woe,
Gave help and comfort there so long ago
Upon that lonely road to Jericho.
