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's naught can yield me 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 tones of tenderest love
"I am coming soon to take thee
To my happy home above."

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 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 wile 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.

I often feel impatient
And mourn His long delay,
I never can be settled
While He remains away.
But we shall not long be parted,
For I know He'll quickly come,
And we shall dwell together
In that happy, happy home.

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.