Melody Conjurske

Jesus, my friend, they tell me You know,
You know how I feel, and why it is so.

October 2005

 

Jesus, my friend, they tell me You know,
You know how I feel, and why it is so.
You see every tear, as I sob alone,
This heart rending grief and pain of my own.

They tell me You too were misunderstood.
They took it all wrong, what You meant for good.
You came as their King, O Lord, can it be,
But died as a sinner, at Calvary?

The pain of this life, they tell me You’ve borne.
You know how it feels to be tired and worn.
They tell me You too were pierced by a thorn;
You suffered alone with a back ripped and torn.

You know the pain of a friend who’s untrue,
You suffered it all, just the same as we do.
They tell meYou know, my Saviour and Friend,
They tell me Your love for me has no end.
 

You see all this pain, my heart ripped and torn,
As though it’s been pierced with many a thorn.
You hear every word not spoken in love.
Oh, if we just knew You’re watching above.

And now I linger with tears in my eyes.
They tell me You’re up-up there in the skies.
I’m quite overcome with sorrow and pain,
And wonder just why you let it remain.

They tell me You know, what is best for me.
They tell me You see what I cannot see.
You see the end, while I see just now.
And You’ll bring me through tho’ I don’t know how.

They tell me my life, it soon will be o’er
There will be no need to trust anymore.
So help me by faith to know that it’s true
It all will be well if I but trust You.

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