Talk with us, Lord, thyself reveal,
While here o'er earth we rove;
Speak to our hearts, and let us feel
The kindling of thy love.

2 With thee conversing, we forget
All time, and toil, and care:
Labor is rest, and pain is sweet,
If thou, my God! art here.

3 Here, then, my God, vouchsafe to stay,
And bid my heart rejoice:
My bounding heart shall own thy sway,
And echo to thy voice.

4 Thou callest me to seek thy face --
'Tis all I wish to seek;
T' attend the whisperings of thy grace,
And hear thee only speak.

Charles Wesley, 1740.