1 If love, the noblest, purest, best,
If truth, all other truth above,
May claim return from every breast,
O, surely Jesus claims our love!

2 There's not a hope with comfort fraught,
Triumphant over death and time,
But Jesus mingles in that thought,
Forerunner of our course sublime.

3 His image meets us in the hour
Of joy, and brightens every smile;
We see him, when the tempests lower,
Each terror soothe, each grief beguile.

4 We see him in the daily round
Of social duty, mild and meek;
With him we tread the hallowed ground,
Communion with our God to seek.

5 We see his pitying, gentle eye,
When lonely want appeals for aid;
We hear him in the frequent sigh,
That mourns the waste that sin has made.

6 We meet him at the lowly tomb,
And weep where Jesus wept before;
And there, above the grave's dark gloom,
We see him rise, -- and weep no more.