9th writing for Palm Sunday “Love Unknown”
Sometimes we look for love in various places. We want the love of our children, but sometimes it is not there. We accept the love of our parents, but in some cases their love is not offered in a way that feels like love. We look for love from our spouse…a love that will last for as long as we live. For some, that does not happen. We want to be loved by those around us…in our neighborhood, clubs, schools, or wherever we reach out to others. The love of this group or groups is even more distant because love is not part of the agenda.
The real love we are looking for may be a LOVE UNKNOWN. It is a the love of God, Who is perfect in love. His would be the most fulfilling, trustworthy, and a love that lasts forever.
Who is this One Who loved the world so much that He sent His only Son to earth to save the lost? He created everything…and some of the things He created we see around us everyday. Other things He has created are light years away. We have never seen Him. Yet we trust Him to be true and even though He has a love unknown….we want it! We yearn for it. We wish for it.
Palm Sunday is a day when the believers laid the palm branches before the Jew named Jesus. They looked to him as their Messiah, but they were mistaken that He was going to be the One who would rule as a king and bring love and peace throughout the world. His darkest hour was yet to come. Those who longed for this unknown love from Him and for the world would see Him die upon a cruel cross. Yet, those who believed His words would also look for the greatest of love….a resurrection morning.
Is He the Love Unknown that you have been looking for in your life? If so, He will meet you on your road….simply spread the “palms” of your life before Him.
Sung by Kings College Choir, the hymn written by Samuel Crossman in 1664. “My Song Is Love Unknown” (Words written below the video)
My song is love unknown,
My Saviour’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 ’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 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? Heav’n 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.