My God, Is Any Hour So Sweet?

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 now

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.

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 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.