| 1 | Lord Jesus Christ, our heart feels sweet |
| | | Whene’er we think on Thee, |
| | And long that to Thy presence dear |
| | | We soon might raptured be! |
| Chorus |
| | | Lord, like the pretty henna-flower*, |
| | | | In vineyards blossoming Thou art; |
| | | Incomp’rable Thy beauty is, |
| | | | Admires and loves our heart! |
| 2 | There is no music adequate |
| | | Thy grace in full to praise, |
| | Nor there a heart which could enjoy |
| | | Thy love in every phase. |
| 3 | Yet, what delights our heart the most |
| | | Is not Thy love, Thy grace; |
| | But it is Thine own loving Self |
| | | That satisfies always. |
| 4 | Oh, Thou art fairer than the fair, |
| | | And sweeter than the sweet; |
| | Beside Thee, none in heaven or earth |
| | | Our heart’s desire could meet. |
| * An Old World plant, prized for its fragrant |
| yellow and white flowers. |
| (Song of Sol. 1:14, A.S.V.) |
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