Writ in between the lines of his life-deed <br />We trace the sacred service of a heart <br />Answering the Divine command, in every part <br />Bearing on human weal: His love did feed <br />The loveless; and his gentle hands did lead <br />The blind, and lift the weak, and balm the smart <br />Of other wounds than rankled at the dart <br />In his own breast, that gloried thus to bleed. <br />He served the lowliest first--nay, them alone-- <br />The most despised that e'er wreaked vain breath <br />In cries of suppliance in the reign whereat <br />Red Guilt sate squat upon her spattered throne.-- <br />For these doomed there it was he went to death. <br />God! how the merest man loves one like that!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/john-brown-2/
