F. Whitfield


THERE is a name I love to hear,

I love to sing its worth;

It sounds like music in mine ear,

The sweetest name on earth.

O, how I love Jesus,

O, how I love Jesus,

O, how I love Jesus,

Because He first loved me!


It tells me of a Saviour’s love,

Who died to set me free;

It tells me of His precious blood,

The sinner’s perfect plea.


It tells me what my Father hath

In store for every day,

And though I tread a darksome path,

Yields sunshine all the way.


It tells of One whose loving heart

Can feel my deepest woe,

Who in each sorrow bears a part,

That none can bear below.


It tells me of a Father’s smile

Beaming upon His child;

It cheers me through this little while,

Through desert waste and wild.


Jesus, the name I love so well,

The name I love to hear;

No saint on earth its worth can tell,

No heart conceive how dear.


This name shall shed its fragrance still

Along this thorny road,

Shall sweetly smooth the rugged hill

That leads me up to God.


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