1 Jesus - the very thought to me
with sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far your face to see,
and in your presence rest.
2 No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than your blessed name,
Savior of human-kind.
3 O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
How kind you are to those apart,
how good to those who seek!
4 But what to those who find? Ah this,
no tongue nor pen can show
Your love, O Jesus, what it is
none but your loved ones know.
5 Jesus, our joy, our greatest bliss,
and you our prize will be;
Our glory here and now is this,
and through eternity.
|First Line:||Jesus - the very thought to me|
|Title:||Jesus - The Very Thought to Me|
|Translator:||Edward B. Caswall (1849, alt.)|
|Topic:||Jesus Christ: Love of; Jesus Christ: Presence of; Joy(5 more...)|
|Source:||Latin, possibly 12th century|