Verse 1
Where cross the crowded ways of life,
where sound the cries of race and clan,
above the noise of selfish strife,
we hear your voice, O Son of Man!
Verse 2
In haunts of wretchedness and need,
on shadowed thresholds dark with fears,
from paths where hide the lures of greed,
we catch the vision of your tears.
Verse 3
The cup of water given for you
still holds the freshness of your grace;
yet long these multitudes to view
the strong compassion of your face.
Verse 4
O Master, from the mountain side,
ake haste to heal these hearts of pain;
among these restless throngs abide,
O tread the city's streets again;
Verse 5
Till all the world shall learn your love
and follow where your feet have trod;
till glorious from your heaven above,
shall come the city of our God.
