Christ claims our help in many a strange disguise; Now, fever-ridden, on a bed He lies; Homeless He wanders now beneath the stars; Now counts the number of His prison bars; Now bends beside us, crowned with hoary hairs. No need have we to climb the heavenly stairs, And press our kisses on His feet and hands; In every man that suffers, He, the Man of Sorrows, stands! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TRASH MEN by CHARLES BUKOWSKI THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN MARTHA WASHINGTON by SIDNEY LANIER STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR PLANKED WHITEFISH by CARL SANDBURG JEWISH LULLABY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |