Jesus, the very thought of thee
1
Jesus, the very thought of thee,
With sweetness fills the 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 Saviour 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 our glory now,
And through eternity.