"'Tis I, dear Friend," the saint replied,
And trembling much with hope and fear.
"If it be thou, without abide."
Sadly to earth the poor saint turned,
To bear the scourging of life's rods;
But aye his heart within him yearned
To mix and lose its love in God's.
He roamed alone through weary years,
By cruel men still scorned and mocked,
Until from faith's pure fires and tears