Wednesday, February 13, 2013

My Song is Love Unknown

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?
"My Song is Love Unknown"
by Samuel Crossman, 1664

If there is one event on earth and in heaven that shows us the risk in loving someone, it's the sacrifice of the Son of God. Jesus sacrificed more than breath and a heartbeat for the perfect love He has for us. He bent down from His throne in heaven and took on our sins, our weaknesses, and the resulting wrath of God the Father only to be rejected, disbelieved, betrayed, ridiculed, and hated unto death. He suffered for far longer than one infamous Friday.

Many of us have lost mothers and fathers, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, friends, and children to sickness, sin, and death. Would you take back all the joyful love you felt when they were alive so you could avoid the painful love you feel today? Jesus didn't. Jesus knew what loving us would mean: His suffering and death on our behalf, but He loves us anyway. As you cry those bitter tears of love-caused broken hearts, thank God for His promise to one day make your life as eternal as your love.

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends..."
1 Corinthians 13:7-8

I regret the recording above, though beautiful, does not have the hymn in its entirety, so I've included the complete text below. The omitted verses are in bold. For more on love, click here.

"My Song is Love Unknown"
by Samuel Crossman, 1664
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?

He came from His blest throne
salvation to bestow.
But men made strange, and none
the longed for Christ would know.
But O! 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 hath 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 these
themselves displease, and against Him rise.

They rise and needs will have
My dear Lord made away.
A murderer they saved,
the Prince of life they slay.
Yet cheerful He to suffering goes
that He His foes from thence 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? Heaven was His home,
but 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 praise
I all my days could gladly spend.

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