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 us to thy feet--
the hour of prayer?

Then is our strength by thee renewed;
then are our sins by thee forgiven;
then dost thou cheer our solitude
with hopes of heaven.

No words can tell what sweet relief
there for our every want we find;
what strength for warfare, balm for grief;
what piece of mind.

Hushed is each doubt; gone every fear,
our spirits seem in heaven to stay;
and even the penitential tear
is wiped away.

Lord, till we reach yon blissful shore,
no privilege so dear shall be,
as thus our inmost souls to pour
in prayer to thee.

Words: Charlotte Elliott, 1836

Music: Es ist kein Tag

Meter: 88 84

Website compiled by Steve Benner, 1999-2003.