St. Christopher Poem by John Bannister Tabb

It was a very little Boy
That on the river side
Stood calling, 'Ferryman, ahoy!
Come, take me o'er the tide!'


The Ferryman came wading on,
And seeing but a child,
'Get up upon my shoulder, Son,'
He said, and, stooping, smiled.


But when into the stream again
The giant boldly strode,
His every muscle was astrain
Beneath the growing load;


Till finally, with failing strength,
He reached the other bank,
And putting down the Boy, at length
Upon the margin sank.


'Who art thou,' wondering, he cried,
'That hast so burdened me?'
'The Son of God,' the Boy replied,
'Who bore the Cross for thee.


'Henceforth thy task pursuing here
For love of souls forlorn
Thou'lt bear the name of Christopher,
As thou the Christ hast borne;


'And little sufferers that see
How great is thy reward
Shall cry, 'like Christopher are we
Thy Ferrymen, O Lord.''