To the Sweet Hour of Prayer (Poem)
Sweet hour of prayer,
how long have I passingly looked upon you;
always in my mind yet lacked all the passion that belongs to you.
I have long known your name,
but I have little experienced you.
I err in my blind indifference,
I am ashamed of my presumptions,
Oh sweet hour of prayer, how I need you;
as my very breath and not a task to do.
You are given as a gift;
one of the uncountable grace secured by Christ's blood,
You're not just a friendly invitation,
you are an urgent command.
Faith is your true name,
Faith when down on its knees;
Your abode nurses passion,
leaving nothing the same,
For it strengthens the weary soul,
It awakens it from languor,
reminding what glory holds.
Your confidence are the promises to which you aid the saints,
to boldly appeal to and proclaim;
for all the spiritual blessings in Christ are given and stands at the door,
but it's only through persevering trust shall they walk out your threshing floor.
Oh sweet hour of prayer,
I bring all my hopes and cares,
If I not go to you,
then I can't go nowhere.
In my waiting, I shall be praying;
one cannot exist without the other,
This is how you, O prayer, have been ordained by the Father,
So though I had long taken and even now, continue to move along,
I shall stay in your blessed hour,
for there is great abundant power.
Oh, sweet hour of prayer,
come and your joy, to me, continually share.