1. 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?
2. Blest be that tranquil
hour of morn,
And blest that hour
of solemn eve,
When, on the wings
of prayer upborne,
The world I leave.
3. For then a day-spring
shines on me,
Brighter than morn’s
ethereal glow;
And richer dews
descend from Thee
Than earth can know.
4. Then is my strength
by Thee renewed;
Then are my sins
by Thee forgiv’n;
Then dost Thou
cheer my solitude
With hopes of Heav’n.
5. No words can tell
what sweet relief
there for our every want we find;
what strength for warfare,
balm for grief;
what piece of mind.
6. Hushed is each doubt,
gone ev’ry fear;
My spirit seems in Heav’n to stay;
And e’en the penitential tear
Is wiped away.
7. Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to Thee.