Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest name,
O Savior of mankind!

O Hope of every contrite heart,
O Joy of all the meek,
To those who ask, how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!

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.

Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
In Thee be all our glory now
And through eternity.

Bernard of Clairvaux. Translated by Edward Caswall

Copied from my grandmother’s hymnal, Hymn Book of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South: Nashville, TN, 1901, Hymn #152.

Note: This hymn is in the public domain. Also, the hymns in this hymnal are not titled. So when I do not know the hymn, I generally use the first line as the title.

Photo taken in Milton, FL, 2021

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