THE gentle sighing of the wind among the pines.

The joyous singing of the lark at break of day,

The rippling of the water-brooks through cooling shade,

The patter of the softly falling rain at night,

Are sounds less sweet by far than His most precious name.

No art can show a form so gracious and so fair,

No master’s hand hath drawn a smile so sweet.

Nor could depict the majesty of that pure brow;

No canvas ever glowed with such a holy light

As shines from His most radiant image in my heart.

The dearest earthly friend may fail in time of need,

The sweetest and the loveliest grow cold at heart,

The nearest may not heed the throbbing heart’s sad cry,

 The gayest throng may hold the loneliest solitude.

But Jesus, Jesus never fails my call to hear.

Oh, may the music of Thy name more clearly fall

Upon my ears attuned to catch that sweetest sound!

Oh, may Thine image in my heart so bright become

That I by gazing may be changed into the same;

Oh, blessed Jesus, let Thy presence ne’er depart,

Oh, come and reign forevermore within my heart!

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