Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life

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.

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.

From ten­der child­hood’s help­less­ness

From wo­man’s grief

man’s bur­dened toil

From fam­ished souls

from sor­row’s stress

Your heart has nev­er known re­coil.

The cup of wa­ter giv’n for You

Still holds the fresh­ness of Your grace;

Yet long these mul­ti­tudes to view

The sweet com­pass­ion of Your face.

O Mas­ter

from the mount­ain­side

Make haste to heal these hearts of pain;

Among these rest­less throngs abide;

O tread the ci­ty’s streets again.

Till sons of men shall learn Your love

And fol­low where Your feet have trod

Till

glo­ri­ous from Your Heav’n above

Shall come the ci­ty of our God!