Dear Lord, who dwell­est with us now
In sad hu­ma­ni­ty,
Give us be­neath the cross to bow
Which men have laid on Thee.

When hun­ger calls to us for bread
With child­hood’s pi­te­ous plea,
Make us to know what Thou hast said
Of those who give to Thee.

When stran­ger knock­eth at our door
For cheer and sym­pa­thy,
Our hearts would warm­est greet­ings pour,
That we may wel­come Thee.

When sick and sore dis­tressed ap­peal
In man’s in­fir­mi­ty,
We’d haste the brok­en heart to heal
That we may com­fort Thee.

When cap­tive lives in mor­tal pains
Are cla­mor­ing to be free,
We’d strike away the hea­vy chains
That we may suc­cor Thee.