|Composer:||Charles Venn Pilcher|
|Incipit:||13515 43451 23543|
Through the heart of every city
runs the flow of human need.
'Mid this glass and steel are pulsing
smoldering wick and bruisèd reed.
Has our church a word to offer,
some hope shining from our creed?
Walking through the concrete furrows
Jesus sows the Word as seed.