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 Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
nor can the memory find
a sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Saviour dear and kind.

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;
Jesus, be thou our glory now
and through eternity.