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 memory find
A
sweeter sound than Jesus' name,
The
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;
In
Thee be all glory now,
And
through eternity.