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Poems (Sherwin)/The hour of prayer

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4524359Poems — The hour of prayerElizabeth Sherwin
THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
Oh, sweet to me the blush of morn,
And sweet the richly perfumed air;
Sweet is the lovely blossomed thorn,
But sweeter still the hour of prayer.

It lifts my thoughts from man to God;
It brings remembrance back of those
Who sleep beneath the mould'ring sod,
Released from care in soft repose.

And when I breathe the fervent prayer,
From earth my spirit seems to sped;
And, freed from worldly thought and care,
Holds commune with the happy dead.

Oh, dear to me the solemn sound
Of closing evening's vesper bell;
It fills the mind with thoughts profound,
Spreads round the heart a holy spell.

Oh, sweet to me the blush of morn,
And sweet the richly perfumed air,
Sweet is the lovely blossomed thorn,
But sweeter still the hour of prayer.