He got him down from off his beast, He found the one who bled, The thieves had bruised and beaten him And left him well nigh dead |
(The Levite and the priest had passed, The calls to them were vain). He bound his wounds. With oil and wine He eased the grevious pain. |
Then to the inn he carried him And paid the keeper's price, As one who does a deed for love, Nor counts it sacrifice. |
Lo, as he passed upon his way, His robe it showed a stain— Two red marks on his white sleeve, where The bleeding head had lain. |
One, made in pity when he stooped To lift the wounded up, The other, when in love he bent To offer him the cup. |
Two red, red lines which made a cross, And marked him as the man Whose name is, till the end of time "The good Samaritan." |