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 Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the mem'ry find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,
O Savior or mankind!

3 O Hope of ev'ry 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.