Jesus, the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far thy face to see,
And in thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Saviour of man-kind!
O hope of every contrite heart,
O Joy of all the meek,
To those who fall, how kind thou art!
How kind to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah, this
Nor tongue nor pen could show;
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but his loved ones know.
Jesus, our only joy be thou,
As thou our prize shall be;
Jesus, be thou our glory now,
And thro eternity. Amen.