Edward Caswall, John B. Dykes
Jesus, the very thought of Thee with sweetness fills my 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 Thy blest name, o Saviour 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
Jesus, our only joy be Thou, as Thou our prize wilt be
Jesus, be Thou our glory now and through eternity