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Ah Whence To Me The Bliss
Ah, whence to me the bliss,
The joy, the heav'nly sweetness,
That now in torrents pure,
My heart o'erflows,
My soul oh be thou silent,
'Tis thy own sweet Jesus,
Who comes to thee this morn,
To be thy sweet repose.
Sweet Jesus I adore Thee,
Within my happy heart,
To me, O Tender Jesus,
Thy grace and love impart.
My King art Thou sweet Lord,
Though hidden be Thy splendor,
Its radiance ever clear,
In bliss doth shine.
And lowly 'mid its brightness,
Trembling here before Thee,
I kneel and humbly beg,
To taste the sacred stream.
Sweet Jesus I adore Thee,
Within my happy heart,
To me, O Tender Jesus,
Thy grace and love impart.
When death in terror comes,
And folds me in its darkness,
When earth and friends depart,
Wilt Thou be near?
Ah, then, in Thy compassion,
Turn Thine eyes upon me,
And bid me come to Thee,
Then call, then let me hear.
Sweet Jesus I adore Thee,
Within my happy heart,
To me, O Tender Jesus,
Thy grace and love impart.
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