Speak, I pray Thee, gen­tle Je­sus!
O, how pass­ing sweet Thy words,
Breathing o’er my trou­bled spi­rit
Peace which ne­ver earth af­fords.
All the world’s dis­tract­ing voic­es,
All th’en­tic­ing tones of ill,
At Thy ac­cents mild, me­lo­dious,
Are sub­dued, and all is still.

Tell me Thou art mine, O Sav­ior,
Grant me an as­sur­ance clear;
Banish all my dark mis­giv­ings,
Still my doubt­ing, calm my fear.
O, my soul with­in me yearn­eth
Now to hear Thy voice di­vine;
So shall grief be gone for ev­er,
And des­pair no more be mine.