Dear little flower, fain would thy name unfold
A tale of love which never can be told.
It calls aloud, poor sinner, don’t despair,
Look to the cross, for Love lay bleeding there.
Yes, poor distressed one, hear thy Saviour’s voice,
In His salvation let your soul rejoice;
Now with your burden to the cross repair,
And see it vanish—Love lay bleeding there.
He asks for nothing—you have naught to give;
You can do nothing—just believe and live!
Then you shall know, your every sin He bare,
And shall rejoice that Love lay bleeding there.