Mine eyes ne'er looked upon his saintly brow,
White with Life's wintry sign;
Nor have mine ears his gospel music heard,
Sweet with the truth divine.

But yet I love him, as a blood-washed soul
To holy service called;
And faithful ever to the inward voice,
By none on earth appalled.

I hope to meet him on the heavenly heights,
And hear him gently say
How he was guided by the Spirit's voice
To Christ, the living Way.

And how, obedient to the Master's call,
He trod the path designed,
To every pressure of a Father's hand,
In Christian faith, resigned.

Oh wondrous faith! to traverse land and sea
Obedient to his will
Who only to the wrathful waves can say,
In passion's hour, “Be still.”

He learned to wait upon his risen Lord,
And in the stillness know
When to the palace, or the prisoner's cell,
His willing feet should go.

And, as a messenger of love, he went
And preached of Christ to those
Whose sin-worn souls the offered mercy took,
A solace for their woes.

In the hereafter, glorious and great
His bright reward shall be,
To meet those souls, new-clothed, at Jesus' feet,
From sin forever free.

Pure spirit! washed and sanctified e'en here,
Through thee thy Master spoke;
And slumbering souls, long fellow-heirs of death,
To God and life awoke.

I honor thee, who honored Christ my Lord,
And wait the coming day,
When I shall tell thee how thy written words
Oft cheered my pilgrim way.