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My song is love unknown, My Saviour’s love to me; Love to the loveless shown, That they might lovely be. O who am I, That for my sake My Lord should take Frail flesh, and die?
He came from His blest throne Salvation to bestow; But men made strange, and none The longed-for Christ would know: But oh, my Friend, My Friend indeed, Who at my need His life did spend.
Sometimes they strew His way, And His sweet praises sing; Resounding all the day Hosannas to their King: Then “Crucify!” Is all their breath, And for His death They thirst and cry.
They rise and needs will have My dear Lord made away; A murderer they save, The Prince of life they slay. Yet cheerful He To suffering goes, That He His foes From thence might free.
Here might I stay and sing, No story so divine; Never was love, dear King, Never was grief like Thine. This is my Friend, In whose sweet praise I all my days Could gladly spend.
