1 Where cross the crowded ways of life,
where sound the cries of clan and race,
above the noise of selfish strife,
O Christ, we hear your voice of grace.
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.
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.
4 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.
5 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.
6 Till all shall learn compassion's might,
following where your feet have trod,
till glorious from your realm of light
shall come the city of our God.
Frank Mason North
The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition
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