- My God, is any hour so sweet
From blush of morn to evening star,
As that which calls me to Thy feet—
The hour of prayer?
- Blest is that tranquil hour of morn,
And blest that hour of solemn eve,
When, on the wings of prayer upborne,
The world I leave.
- For then a day-spring shines on me,
Brighter than morn’s ethereal glow;
And richer dews descend from Thee,
Than earth can know.
- Then is my strength by Thee renew’d;
Then are my sins by Thee forgiven;
Then dost Thou cheer my solitude
With hopes of heaven.
- No words can tell what sweet relief
There for my every want I find,
What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
What peace of mind.
- Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;
My spirit seems in Heaven to stay;
And e’en the penitential tear
Is wiped away.
- Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to Thee. Amen.