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 every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
to those who ask, how kind thou art!
How good to those who seek!

4 Jesus, our only joy be thou,
as thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be thou our glory now;
and through eternity.