Nobody knows but Jesus!
’Tis only the old refrain
Of a quaint, pathetic slave-song,
But it comes again and again.

I only heard it quoted,
And I do not know the rest;
But the music of the message
Was wonderfully blessed.

For it fell upon my spirit
Like sweetest twilight psalm,
When the breezy sunset waters
Die into starry calm.

Nobody knows but Jesus!
Is it not better so,
That no one else but Jesus,
My own dear Lord, should know?

When the sorrow is a secret
Between my Lord and me,
I learn the fuller measure
Of His quick sympathy.

Whether it be so heavy,
That dear ones could not bear
To know the bitter burden
They could not come and share;

Whether it be so tiny,
That others could not see
Why it should be a trouble,
And seem so real to me;

Either, and both, I lay them
Down at my Master’s feet,
And find them, alone with Jesus,
Mysteriously sweet.

Sweet, for they bring me closer
To the dearest, truest Friend;
Sweet, for He comes the nearer,
As ’neath the cross I bend;

Sweet, for they are the channels
Through which His teachings flow
Sweet, for by these dark secrets
His heart of love I know.

Nobody knows but Jesus!
It is music for to-day,
And through the darkest hours
It will chime along the way.

Nobody knows but Jesus!
My Lord, I bless Thee now
For the sacred gift of sorrow
That no one knows but Thou.

Frances Ridley Havergal
Loyal Responses, 1878