Uploaded March 2017 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
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From our album Church Bells.
LYRICS:
My song is love unknown, My Savior's love to me,Love to the loveless shown That they might lovely be.Oh, who am I That for my sakeMy Lord should take Frail flesh and die?
He came from his blest throne Salvation to bestow,But such disdain! So few 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.
Why? What has my Lord done? What makes this rage and spite?He made the lame to run; He gave the blind their sight.Sweet injuries! Yet they at theseThemselves displease And 'gainst him rise.
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 suff'ring goesThat he his foes From death might free.
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 homeBut mine the tomb Wherein he lay.
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 praiseI all my days Could gladly spend!
Text: public domain. *Tune: c John Ireland Trust, c/o Mr. P.B.A. Taylor, 35 St. Mary's Mansions, St. Mary's Terrace, London W2 1SQ England
Purchase this song on iTunes - bit.ly/1p4bdt8
Subscribe for NEW songs every Friday! - bit.ly/koinechannel
Visit our website - koinemusic.com
From our album Church Bells.
LYRICS:
My song is love unknown, My Savior's love to me,Love to the loveless shown That they might lovely be.Oh, who am I That for my sakeMy Lord should take Frail flesh and die?
He came from his blest throne Salvation to bestow,But such disdain! So few 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.
Why? What has my Lord done? What makes this rage and spite?He made the lame to run; He gave the blind their sight.Sweet injuries! Yet they at theseThemselves displease And 'gainst him rise.
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 suff'ring goesThat he his foes From death might free.
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 homeBut mine the tomb Wherein he lay.
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 praiseI all my days Could gladly spend!
Text: public domain. *Tune: c John Ireland Trust, c/o Mr. P.B.A. Taylor, 35 St. Mary's Mansions, St. Mary's Terrace, London W2 1SQ England
