Who Yonder on the Desert Heath

‘Who yonder on the desert heath,
Complains in feeble tone?’

‘Who yonder on the desert heath,
Complains in feeble tone?’
‘A pilgrim in the vale of death,
Faint, bleeding and alone.’

‘How cam’st thou to this dismal strand
Of danger, grief, and shame?’
‘From blessed Sion’s holy land,
By folly led, I came.’

‘What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare?
Whose fury laid thee low?’
‘Sin for my footsteps twined her snare,
And death has dealt the blow.’

‘Can art no medicine for thy wound,
Nor nature strength supply?’
‘They saw me bleeding on the ground,
And passed in silence by.’

‘But, sufferer, is no comfort near
Thy terrors to remove?’
‘There is to whom my soul was dear,
But I have scorned his love.’

‘What if his hand were night to save
From endless death thy days?’
‘The soul he ransomed from the grave
Should live but to his praise.’

‘Rise then, O rise, his health embrace,
With heavenly strength renewed;
And such as is thy Saviour’s grace,
Such be thy gratitude.’

Reginald Heber