A little talk with Jesus—
How it smooths the rugged road,
How it seems to help me onward,
When I faint beneath my load:
When my heart is crushed with sorrow,
And my eyes with tears are dim,
There is naught can yield me comfort
Like a little talk with Him.

I tell Him I am weary,
And I fain would be at rest,
And I’m daily, hourly longing
For a home upon His breast;
And He answers me so sweetly,
In tones of tenderest love,
“I am coming soon to take thee
To My happy home above.”

I know the way is dreary
To yonder far-off clime,
But a little talk with Jesus
Will while away the time:
And yet the more I know Him,
And all His grace explore,
It only sets me longing
To know Him more and more.

I cannot live without Him,
Nor would I if I could;
He is my daily portion,
My medicine and my food:
He’s altogether lovely,
None can with Him compare—
The chief among ten thousand,
The fairest of the fair.

So I’ll wait a little longer,
Till His appointed time,
And glory in the knowledge
That such a hope is mine;
Then in my Father’s dwelling
Where many mansions be,
I’ll sweetly talk with Jesus,
And He shall talk with me.