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.