1 Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see
And in Thy presence rest.
2 No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
Nor can the mem'ry find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,
O Savior of mankind.
3 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!
4 But what to those who find? Ah, this
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is--
None but His loved ones know.
5 Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be Thou our glory now
And through eternity.
