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A Poem for Holy Week
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 heaven’s throne salvation to bestow;
the world that was his own would not its Savior know.
But O my Friend, my Friend indeed,
who at my need his life did spend!
Sometimes we strew his way, and his sweet praises sing,
resounding all the day hosannas to our King.
Then "Crucify!" is all our breath,
and for his death we thirst and cry.
Unheeding, we will have our dear Lord made away,
a murderer to save, the prince of life to slay.
Yet steadfast he to suffering goes,
that he his foes from thence might free.
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.
-Samuel Crossman (1624-1683)
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