O King Of Grief How Strange

O King Of Grief! (How Strange And True
The Name, To Jesus Only Due!)
How, Savior, Shall I Grieve For Thee?
Who In All Griefs Preventest Me.

Then Let Me Vie With Thee In Love,
And Try Who There Shall Conqueror Prove,
Givest Thou Me Wealth? I Will Restore
All Back Unto Thee By The Poor.

Givest Thou Me Honor? All Shall See
The Honor Doth Belong To Thee:
A Bosom-Friend? If False He Prove
To Thee, I Will Tear Thence His Love.

Thee Shall My Music Find: Each String
Shall Have His Attribute To Sing;
And Every Note Accord In Thee,
To Prove One God, One Harmony.

Givest Thou Me Knowledge? It Shall Still
Search Out Thy Ways, Thy Works, Thy Will:
Yea, I Will Search Thy Book, Nor Move
Till I Have Found Therein Thy Love.

Thy Love I Will Turn Back On Thee:
O My Dear Savior, Victory!
Then For Thy Passion, I For That
Will Doalas, I Know Not What!