My song is love unknown - Edwards, John

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"''The Hymnal 1982'' gives the composer's date of birth as 1806."

⌛ Epoche → Romantik ◈ Genre / Form → Hymnen

♯ Tonart F major

⁄ Taktart 4/4

♬ Besetzung → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Unterstufe

↕ Tonumfang F – c''

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Takte 36

Textur mixed texture

Stimmen 3

Instrumente A cappella or keyboard

Seiten 2

CPDL Nr. 70590

Bearbeiter Andrew Sims

Veröffentlicht 2022-08-29

Lizenz CPDL-Lizenz

♫Tonumfänge

Midi_74

F – d'

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_August_2022 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_705xy

¶Liedtext

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 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, who at my need his life did spend. Sometimes they strew his way, and his strong praises sing, resounding all the day hosannas to their King. Then “Crucify!” is all their breath, and for his death they thirst and cry, 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 ’gainst him rise, themselves 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 steadfast he to suffering goes, that he his foes from thence might free, 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, 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, I all my days could gladly spend.