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 mind recall
A sweeter sound than thy blest Name,
O Savior of us all!
3 O hope of ev'ry contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who ask, 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.