Blest Hour, When Mortal Man Retires

Blest hour

when mor­tal man re­tires

To hold com­mun­ion with his God;

To send to Heav­en his warm de­sires

And list­en to the sac­red word.

Blest hour

when God Him­self draws nigh

Well pleased His peo­ple’s voice to hear;

To hush the pe­ni­ten­tial sigh

And wipe away the mourn­er’s tear.

Blest hour

for

when the Lord re­sorts

Foretastes of fu­ture bliss are giv­en;

And mor­tals find His earth­ly courts

The house of God

the gate of Heav­en.

Hail

peace­ful hour! su­preme­ly blest

Amid the hours of world­ly care;

The hour that yields the Spir­it rest

That sac­red hour

the hour of pray­er.

And when my hours of pray­er are past

And this frail te­ne­ment de­cays

Then may I spend in Heav­en at last

A nev­er-end­ing hour of praise.