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Charlotte Elliott·Modern

My God, is any hour so sweet,
From blush of morn to evening star,
As that which calls me to thy feet,
The calm and holy hour of prayer?

Blest is the tranquil break of morn,
And blest the hush of solemn eve,
When on the wings of prayer up-borne,
This fair, but transient, world I leave.

Then is my strength by thee renewed;
Then are my sins by thee forgiven;
Then dost thou cheer my solitude,
With clear and beauteous hopes of heaven.

No words can tell what sweet relief,
There for my every want I find;
What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
What deep and cheerful peace of mind.

Lord, till I reach the blissful shore,
No privilege so dear shall be,
As thus my inmost soul to pour
In faithful filial prayer to thee!

Otterbein 1890 No. 386

Not yet anchored to a scripture passage

Phoebe H. Brown·Modern

I love to steal awhile away
From ev’ry cumb’ring care,
And spend the hours of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.

I love in solitude to shed
The penitential tear,
And all his promises to plead,
Where none but God can hear.

I love to think on mercies past,
And future good implore,
And all my cares and sorrows cast
On him whom I adore.

I love by faith to take a view
Of brighter scenes in heaven;
The prospect doth my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.

Thus, when life’s toilsome day is o’er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour,
And lead to endless day!

Phoebe H. Brown, “I Love to Steal Awhile Away”

Otterbein 1890 No. 388 · C.M · Brown

Not yet anchored to a scripture passage