Verse 1
Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.
Verse 2
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest [name,
Verse 3
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall, how kind Thou heart!
How good to those who seek!
Verse 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.
Verse 5
Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize will be;
Jesus, be thou our glory now,
And through eternity.
Bernard of Clairvaux.