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, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Saviour of mankind.
3 O hope of every contrite heart!
0 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
No tongue, no 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 crown wilt be:
Jesus, be thou our glory now,
And through eternity.