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 fraught with fears, from paths where hide the lures of greed, we catch the vision of your tears.

Verse 3

From tender childhood's helplessness, from human grief and burdened toil, from famished souls, from sorrow's stress, your heart has never known recoil.

Verse 4

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;

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.

Verse 6

The cup of water given for you still holds the freshness of your grace; yet long these multitudes to view the sweet compassion of your face.