O what are the plea­sures that sil­ver can buy?
They come and they go, but can­not sa­tis­fy;
But praised be the Sav­ior!
I cease not to cry,
I find Thee so pre­cious, my Sav­ior!

Refrain

O sweet­er and sweet­er, as day fol­lows day,
As the gold of the morn­ing
Breaks forth through the gray;
As I lift up my soul,
As I praise and I pray,
I find Thee more pre­cious, my Sav­ior!

I care not if all the proud world turn away,
The plau­dits of men on­ly last for a day;
Their frowns do not fright­en,
Or cause me dis­may,
I find Thee so pre­cious, my Sav­ior!

Refrain

As well in the cot­tage as un­der the dome,
Beside my own cot, or wher­ev­er I roam;
The ho­ney from Hea­ven
Still drips from the comb;
I find Thee so pre­cious, my Sav­ior!

Refrain