Jesus, the very thought of Thee

With sweetness fills my breast;

But sweeter for Thy face to see,

And in Thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame

Nor can the mem’ry find

A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,

O Saviour of mankind.

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

Nor tongue nor pen can show:

The love of Jesus, what it is,

None but His lov’d ones know.

Jesus, our only joy be Thou,

As Thou our prize wilt be;

Jesus, be thou our glory now,

And through eternity.