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.