NIGHT is, the time for prayer:
No human form is near,
To mark the uplifted eye,
To catch the burdened sigh
Ascending to the throne—
To that Eternal One
Who ever looks in mercy down
On those He deigns to call His own.
Night is the time for prayer,
When, free from toil and care,
Earth’s busy crowds repose,
Forgetful of their woes;
When stillness reigns profound,
And all is dark around,
Save in the heart renewed by grace,
Where Jesus finds a dwelling-place.
Night is the time for prayer,
When none but God is near;
He hears each heartfelt groan
Ascending to the throne,
Each earnest, pleading cry
Is quickly caught on high,
And, for the sake of Christ His Son,
The Father says, “It shall be done.”
Oh, precious hour of prayer!
Precious beyond compare;
Precious when sorrows flow,
And strong temptations grow!
My raptured soul would stay
E’en till the break of day
In converse with my precious Lord,
Whose name shall ever be adored.