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.