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Hymns of My Youth: Sweet Hour of Prayer

Today’s hymn, Sweet Hour of Prayer, is a Fundy favorite. I don’t know how well known it is in other denominational circles. I debated whether or not to include it here, as it really is not one of the greats, but as the series is Hymns of My Youth, and this song is both doctrinally acceptable and was a favorite in my church, as well as a personal favorite for years, I decided to slip it in.

11 Sweet Hour of Prayer

Sweet hour of pray’r! sweet hour of pray’r!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known:
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief;
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of pray’r!

Sweet hour of pray’r! sweet hour of pray’r!
The joys I feel, the bliss I share
Of those whose anxious spirits burn
With strong desires for thy return!
With such I hasten to the place,
Where God my Savior shows His face,
And gladly take my station there,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of pray’r!

Sweet hour of pray’r! sweet hour of pray’r!
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To Him whose truth and faithfulness,
Engage the waiting soul to bless;
And since He bids me seek His face,
Believe His Word and trust His grace,
I’ll cast on Him my every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of pray’r!

—The Concordia Hymnal (Augsburg Publishing House), 1960.

Verse 1 gets off to a shaky start. It has a goose-pimply mystical flavor reminiscent of In the Garden that gives me the heebie-jeebies. It earns points in the latter half with “In seasons of distress and grief, / My soul has often found relief; / And oft escaped the tempter’s snare, / By thy return, sweet hour of pray’r,” but it is still too vague. Verse 2 is like totally In the Garden (can’t help saying in airheadish). At this point, I’m ready to throw the whole squishy mess, but then verse 3 comes along and pulls it together with a strong finish: “And since He bids me seek His face, / Believe His Word and trust His grace, / I’ll cast on Him my every care, / And wait for thee, sweet hour of pray’r!” The single indispensible phrase that redeems what would otherwise be a hopelessly sentimental mess is “Believe His Word and trust His grace.” If you sing this song, hang your hat there. And never forget that to “believe his Word and trust his grace,” you must know what his Word says. You can’t feel it, you must think it.

George Beverly Shea