Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/70

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52
THE MATIN HOUR OF PRAYER.
Then for thyself, in meekness,
 A blessing humbly claim,
And link with each petition
 Thy great Redeemer's name.

Or if 'tis e'er denied thee
 In solitude to pray,
Should holy thoughts come o'er thee
 When friends are round thy way;
E'en then the silent breathing,
 The spirit raised above,
W ill reach His throne of glory
 Who's mercy, truth, and love.

Oh I not a joy nor blessing
 With this can we compare,
The power that He hath given us
 To pour our souls in prayer!
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness,
 Before His footstool fall;
Remember in thy gladness
 His love who gave thee all.

The Matin Hour of Prayer.
This cool and fragrant hour of prime,
 Unvexed by life's intrusive care,
My matin hour of praise shall be—
 Sweet, solitary praise and prayer.

'Twill gird my spirit for the fight,
 The glare, the strife of this world's way;
Weak, tempted, weary, lone, and sad,
 'Tis never, never vain to pray.

This cool and fragrant hour of prime:
 The silent stars are fading quite;
The moist air gently stirs the leaves,
 Dew-laden, to the breaking light.

The stillness, the repose, the peace,
 They win the quiet soul away,
To visit that elysian world
 Where breaketh an eternal day.

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