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 Savior of mankind!
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.
|First Line:||Jesus, the very thought of Thee|
|Title:||Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee|
|Author:||Bernard of Clairvaux|