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?
Then is my strength by thee renewed;
Then are my sins by thee forgiv'n;
Then dost thou cheer my solitude
With hope of heav'n.
No words can tell what sweet relief
There for my ev'ry want I find,
What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
What peace of mind!
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.
Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to thee.