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Jesus, the very thought of thee
with sweetness fills the breast;
but sweeter far thy face to see,
and in thy presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
nor can the memory find,
a sweeter sound than Jesus' Name,
the Savior of mankind.
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!
But what to those who find? Ah, this
nor tongue nor pen can show;
the love of Jesus, what it is,
none but who love him know.
Jesus, our only joy be thou,
as thou our prize wilt be;
in thee be all our glory now,
and through eternity.