Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see
And in Thy presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
Nor can the mind conceive,
A sweeter sound than Jesus’ name
To sinners who believe.
O, hope of every contrite heart,
O, joy of all the meek,
To those who fall how kind Thou art,
How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this
No tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is,
None but His loved ones know.
Jesus! our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our Prize wilt be:
In Thee be all the glory now,
And through eternity.