A little talk with Jesus—how it smooths the rugged road!
How it seems to help me onward when I faint beneath the load!
When my heart is crushed with sorrow, and my eyes with tears are dim,
There is naught that can give comfort like a little talk with Him. I tell Him I am weary, and I fain would be at rest;
That I'm daily, hourly longing for a home upon His breast.
And He answers me so sweetly, in such tones of tenderest love,
"I am coming soon to take thee to thy happy home above." And this is what I am wanting—His lovely face to see;
And—I'm not afraid to say it—I know He's wanting me.
He gave His life a ransom to make me all His own,
And He can't forget His promise to me, His purchased one. 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. 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.