The Wanderer

There was a man I met upon the road.
He inquired of me what way I go
And asked how many nights and days I strode.
I said to him, “In truth I do not know.
I have been a wanderer all my life.”
He thought this strange, and asked how that might be.
I told him how my days were full of strife
And I wished to find Him who died for me.
He smiled and said to look upon that hill.
I looked, and there I saw three crosses stand.
I saw the Christ! With joy my heart did fill.
My whole life I had seen no sight more grand!
Praise be to the God where in Heaven dwell
Who washed my sin with blood and made me well!