Union County Star And Lewisburg Chronicle

THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
BY CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT.
My God! 'tis an hour that suits the soul,
As that which calls me to thy feet—
From bashful of night the lingering star,
The hour of prayer!
Best is that tranquil hour of morn.
And best 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 aught below.
They are my strength by Thee renewed.
These are my sins by Thee forgiven,
These are Thy deeds that cheer my solitude
With hope of heaven.
No words can tell what sweet relief
There is 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 heaven 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 this my inmost soul to pour
In prayer to Thee.