A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief, p.29 - James Montgomery--Hymn sung at the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
See History of the Church, 6:614-15.

1. 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.
2. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered; not a word he spake,
   Just perishing for want of bread. I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
   And ate, but gave me part a-gain. Mine was an angel's portion then,
   For while I fed with eager haste, The crust was manna to my taste.
3. I spied him where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
   The heedless water mocked his thirst; He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
   I ran and raised the suff'rer up; Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
   Dipped and returned it running o'er; I drank and never thirsted more.
4. 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof.
   I heard his voice abroad and flew To bid him welcome to my roof.
   I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest And laid him on my couch to rest;
   Then made the earth my bed, and seemed In Eden's garden while I dreamed.
5. 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.
6. 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!"
7. 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."