Johnston Annie Fellows
It Was the Road to Jericho

 
 
 
(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