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On Sunday, I shared some thoughts on the closing hymn, Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life. I’m repeating them here for those who missed them.
Hymn 408, Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life, can be a difficult hymn to understand because of its syntax. But the words are important, and the poem is beautiful, so it’s worth taking a little time to look at what it’s saying.
First, it helps to know that this hymn was commissioned as a hymn about mission. It was written in the early twentieth century, when conditions in cities were often pretty dire. So, with that in mind, let’s take a closer look at what each stanza is saying.
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.
The first stanza is a little tricky, so let’s take it slowly. First, where doesn’t mean we’re asking a question. It means wherever. And ways is an old-fashioned word for streets. So we’re talking about the intersection of the crowded streets of city life.
Now, here’s the other thing that makes this stanza difficult: we have to wait until the very last line to get the main verb. The whole stanza is building toward the words, “Above the noise of selfish strife, We hear thy voice, O Son of Man.”
And when do we hear that voice? Wherever people are crowded together, wherever there’s conflict among races and clans. Even amid all that noise and strife, we can still hear Christ’s voice.
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.
We have a similar challenge in the second stanza. Here, we encounter another word that we don’t use quite so often today: haunts. It means places where people regularly gather or spend time.
And once again, we have to wait until the end of the stanza to get the main verb. We catch the vision of Christ’s tears wherever we find wretchedness and need, in homes darkened by greed and fear.
In other words, we see Jesus weeping for the city, just as he wept for Jerusalem. He sees the suffering of its people, and he grieves with them.
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.
Once again, the poet gives us the conditions first and the action afterward. We hear about children’s helplessness, human grief, the struggles of those who labor, souls who are famished, and people who are deeply distressed.
And the point is that Jesus never stops loving these people. His love reaches into every kind of human suffering. No matter what people are experiencing, they remain within the reach of his compassion.
4. 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.
The fourth stanza shifts our attention to the water of grace that Christ offers us. That gift is still available. But the tragedy is that multitudes of people who are suffering never hear that it’s there for them. And here the focus shifts to our responsibility to care for these people since the “cup of water given for thee” reminds us that “when I was thirsty you gave me drink. Whatever you did for the least of my brothers and sisters, you did to me.”
And that brings us right back to the hymn’s central theme of mission. The church is called to carry the good news of Christ’s love into the places where people need it most.
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.
Now we come to a prayer that Christ would heal us by coming from the “mountainside” (where the sermon was preached) to the city’s streets again.
What does that mean? We’re praying for Christ to enter our everyday lives, to come into the places where people are hurting, to heal hearts in pain, and to live among us.
It’s a prayer that Christ’s ministry will continue here and now, right in the midst of our ordinary lives and the suffering of the world.
6. 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.
And finally, the hymn reaches its climax. We look toward the day when all the world will know Christ’s love and the city of God will be among us.
Notice how far we’ve traveled. We began with the crowded, noisy streets of human life, with all their conflict, suffering, and need. We’ve seen Christ’s compassion for those who suffer, reflected on the grace he offers, and prayed for his presence among us. And now we arrive at this magnificent vision of a world transformed by divine love.
And there’s one more thing I love about this hymn, and that’s the way the music and the text work together. The music builds along with the poetry, carrying us forward within each stanza to get to the verb, and likewise, throughout the entire hymn until we reach that wonderful climax in the very last line. That’s what makes singing the hymn so satisfying.
What a great hymn! It builds slowly and skillfully, stanza by stanza, toward that climactic ending. The intricate syntax asks us to slow down and listen carefully. But as we do, we’re drawn more deeply into the poet’s vision: a world — a city — in need of Christ’s love, and a church called to carry that love into the streets of everyday life, transforming the city of strife into the City of God.
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