Jesus, I love Thy charm­ing name,
’Tis mu­sic to mine ear;
Fain would I sound it out so loud
That earth and Hea­ven should hear.

Yes, Thou art pre­cious to my soul,
My trans­port and my trust;
Jewels to Thee are gau­dy toys,
And gold is sor­did dust.

All my ca­pa­cious pow­ers can wish
In Thee doth rich­ly meet;
Not to mine eyes is light so dear,
Nor friend­ship half so sweet.

Thy grace still dwells up­on my heart,
And sheds its frag­rance there;
The nob­lest balm of all its wounds,
The cor­di­al of its care.

I’ll speak the hon­ors of Thy name
With my last la­bor­ing breath;
Then speech­less clasp Thee in mine arms,
The an­ti­dote of death.