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 pray'r?

2 No words can tell what sweet relief
Here for my ev'ry want I find;
What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
What peace of mind.

3 Hush'd is each doubt, gone evry fear;
My spirit seems in heav'n to stay;
And e'en the penitential tear
Is wiped away.

4 Lord, till I reach that blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In pray'r to Thee.