1 Of all the joys we mortals know,
Jesus, thy love exceeds the rest;
Love, the best blessing here below,
The highest rapture of the blest.
2 While we are held in thy embrace,
There's not a thought attempts to rove;
Each smile that's seen upon thy face,
Fixes, and charms, and fires our love.
3 When of thine absence we complain,
And long, and weep, and humbly pray;
There's a strange pleasure in the pain,--
Those tears are sweet which mourn thy stay.
4 When round thy courts by day we rove,
Or ask the watchmen of the night
For some kind tidings from above,
Thy very name creates delight.
5 Jesus, our God, descend and come;
Our eyes shall dwell upon thy face;
'Tis heav'n to see our Lord at home,
And feel the presence of his grace.
Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #390