HYMN NO. 449

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 prayer?

2 Blest is that tranquil hour of morn, And blest that hour of solemn eve, When, on the wings of prayer up borne, The world I leave.

3 For then a dayspring shines on me, Brighter than morn’s ethereal glow, And richer dews descend from Thee Than earth can know.

4 Then is my strength by Thee renewed;
Then are my sins by Thee forgiven;
Then dost Thou cheer my solitude
With hopes of heaven.

5 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!

6 Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;
My spirit seems in heaven to stay;
And even the penitential tear
Is wiped away.

7 Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to thee.