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.
Ah, this is what I'm wanting--
His lovely face to see;
And, I'm not afraid to say it,
I know he's wanting me.
He gave his life my ransom,
To make me all his own,
And he'll ne'er forget his promise
To me his purchased one.
I cannot live without him,
Nor would I if I could;
He is my daily portion,
My medicine and food.
He's altogether lovely,
None can with him compare;
Chiefest among ten thousand,
And fairest of the fair.
So I'll wait a little longer,
Till his appointed time,
And along the upward pathway
My pilgrim feet shall climb.
There in my Father's dwelling,
Where many mansions be,
I shall sweetly talk with Jesus,
And he will talk with me.