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
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!
3
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.
4
Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore, No privilege so dear shall be As thus my inmost soul to pour In prayer to thee.