1 My song is love unknown, My Savior’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?
2 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.
3 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.
4 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.
5 In life, no house, no home My Lord on earth might have; In death, no friendly tomb, But what a stranger gave. What may I say? Heav’n was His home; But mine the tomb Wherein He lay.
6 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.