O I love to talk with Jesus, for it smooths the rugged road;
And it seems to help me onward, when I faint beneath my load;
When my heart is crush’d with sorrow, and my eyes with tears are dim,
There is nought can yield me comfort like a little talk with Him.
Oft I tell Him I am weary, and I fain would be at rest;
That I’m daily, hourly, longing to repose upon His breast;
And He answers me so kindly, in the tend’rest tones of love,
“I am coming soon to take thee to My happy home above.”
Though the way is long and dreary to that far off distant clime,
Yet I know that my Redeemer journeys with me all the time;
And the more I come to know Him, and His wondrous grace explore,
How my longing groweth stronger still to know Him more and more.
So I’ll wait a little longer, till my Lord’s appointed time,
And along the upward pathway still my pilgrim feet shall climb;
Soon within my Father’s dwelling, where the many mansions be,
I shall see my blessed Saviour, and He then will talk with me.
Words arr./W.G. Fischer