| Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | Poems (1836).
IV. The Hour of Prayer | | By Charlotte Elliott (1789–1871) |
| | | 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, | 5 |
| And blest that hour of solemn eve, | |
| When on the wings of prayer up-borne, | |
| The world I leave! | |
| |
| For then a day-spring shines on me, | |
| Brighter than morn’s ethereal glow; | 10 |
| And richer dews descend from Thee | |
| Than earth can know. | |
| |
| Then is my strength by Thee renewed; | |
| Then are my sins by Thee forgiven; | |
| Then dost Thou cheer my solitude | 15 |
| With hope of heaven. | |
| |
| 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. | 20 |
| |
| Hushed is each doubt; gone every fear; | |
| My spirit seems in heaven to stay: | |
| And e’en the penitential tear | |
| Is wiped away. | |
| |
| Lord! till I reach yon blissful shore, | 25 |
| No privilege so dear shall be, | |
| As thus my inmost soul to pour | |
| In prayer to Thee. | | | | |
|
|
