When torn is the bosom by sorrow or care,
Be it ever so simple there's nothing like prayer:
It eases, soothes, softens, subdues yet restrains,
Gives vigor to hope, and puts passion in chains.
Prayer, prayer—oh sweet prayer!
Be it ever so simple there's nothing like prayer.
When far from friends we hold dearest, we part,
When fond recollections still cling to the heart;
Past converse, past scenes, past enjoyments are there,
The memory rejoices in language of prayer.
Prayer, prayer—oh sweet prayer!
Be it ever so simple there's nothing like prayer.
When pleasure would woo us from piety's arms,
The syren sings sweetly, or silently charms,
We listen, love, loiter, are caught in the snare,
On looking to Jesus we conquer by prayer.
Prayer, prayer—oh sweet prayer!
Be it ever so simple there's nothing like prayer.
While strangers to prayer, we are strangers to bliss,
Heaven pours its full streams through no medium but this;
And till we the seraph's full ecstasy share,
Our chalice of joy must be guarded by prayer.
Prayer, prayer—oh sweet prayer!
Be it ever so simple there's nothing like prayer.