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 forgiven;
Then dost Thou cheer my solitude
With hopes of Heaven.
Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;
My spirit seems in Heaven to stay;
And even 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.
Words: Charlotte
Elliott, 1836
