161 ~ O Could I Speak the Matchless Worth
1
Jesus, the very thought of Thee, With sweetness fills the breast; But sweeter far Thy face to see, And in thy presence rest.
2
No voice can sing, no heart can frame, Nor can the memory find A sweeter sound than Jesus' name, The 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.
5
Jesus, our only joy be Thou, As Thou our prize wilt be; In Thee be all our glory now, And through eternity.