Have I?

A poor, wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not pow’r to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.

Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die.
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
But my free spirit cried, “I will!”

Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise.
The tokens in his hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name he named,
“Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”

This morning, I was singing this song in the shower, and found that I couldn't sing it anymore.  My heart was full.  I thought, over and over about my life, and where I am, and what I'm doing.  I couldn't help but think that I too have "myself, a wound concealed."  I attempted to stem my emotions by singing another hymn.

"Have I done any good in the world today?

Have I helped anyone in need?

Have I cheered up the sad, or made someone feel glad?

If not, I have failed indeed."

Singing this song did not have the desired effect.  I continued to think, "Have I?"  I thought of the second verse to that song:  

There are chances for work all around just now;

Opportunities right in our way.

Do not let them pass by, saying 'sometime, I'll try',

But GO and do something today.

So, for what it is worth, I am going to try and do something good today--to "stand up, and do something more than dream of my mansion above."  I want to share with all my testimony of Jesus Christ.  He is that poor wayfaring man of grief.  And if he asked "if I for Him would die", my answer would be yes a thousand times over.  I can't wait for the day that I can look upon him and see the tokens in His hands and feet.  To kiss Him and bathe His feet with my tears of love and gratitude and with hope that I hear Him say, "of me thou hast not been ashamed".

"I have myself a wound concealed", but I know that he can bind up my broken heart.  I may stumble through the rest of my existence struggling with my "wounds", but I want anyone who is listening now to know that my testimony of the Savior is real.  I hope that one day, my words can mean the same as Pres. Hinckley's did when he said, "I love him.  He is my friend.  He is my redeemer."  I too love Him, and He IS my friend.  My entire body is filled with the Spirit's confirmation that Jesus lives.  That He died for me willingly.  He is the way, the truth, and the life.  He is Jesus Christ, and He did it all for me--despite my imperfections, my sins, my stumbling blocks, etc.  He loves me.  I Love Him.  

Have I done any good in the world today?  I hope so.