Dear Je­sus! ev­er at my side,
How lov­ing Thou must be
To leave Thy home in Heav’n to guard
A lit­tle child like me.

Thy beau­ti­ful and shin­ing face
I see not, though so near;
The sweet­ness of Thy soft low voice
I am too deaf to hear.

I can­not feel Thee touch my hand,
With pres­sure light and mild,
To check me, as my mo­ther did,
When I was but a child.

But I have felt Thee in my thoughts,
Rebuking sin for me;
And when my heart loves God, I know
The sweet­ness is from Thee.

And when, dear Sav­ior, I kneel down,
Morning and night in pray­er,
Something there is with­in my heart
Which tells me Thou art there.

Yes, when I pray, Thou pray­est too—
Thy pray­er is all for me;
But when I sleep, Thou sleepest not,
But watch­est pa­tient­ly,