Give Him a Lift

I was trudging one day down a dusty road

While my back curved under a bit of a load,

And the way was long, and my feet were sore,

And my bones ached under the load I bore;

But I struggled on in the summer’s heat,

Till I came to a pool where I bathed my feet;

Then, resting a bit, I shouldered my load,

And wended my way down the dusty road.

The morning stretched into the afternoon –

My journey’s end seemed far as the moon;

Till at length a horse and wagon drew near,

And my heart revived with a spark of cheer.

But the man saw only his own small soul,

And the narrow way to his narrow goal,

And he whipped his horse to a guilty trot,

Though the sand was deep and the sun was hot,

And he passed me by on the dusty road,

And I sank still lower beneath my load.

Yet, out of the dust came another man,

With a grizzled beard and a cheek of tan,

And he pulled up short, and he gaily cried:

“I say there, comrade, get in an’ ride!”

And he placed my bundle behind the seat,

And he said “Climb in here an’ rest your feet;

I never pass a man on the road,

An’ ‘specially friend if he’s got a load.”

I reached my journey ere came the night,

And my feet were rested, my heart was light;

And I blessed the driver who gaily cried:

“I say there, comrade, get in an’ ride!”

Ah! The world is full of sore-footed men

Who need a slight lift every now and again,

And the angels can see through the white-cloud rift

All the god-like souls who give them a lift.

May 18, ‘10