Come to the throne of Grace:--it stands
At all times, every where;
With humbled hearts and holy hands,
Let us assemble there.
On the whole earth's expanded face,
'Tis best to tarry there,
For nearest heaven must be the place,
Where God meets man in prayer.
In the same moment, at that throne,
Were all who breathe the air,
In multitude, or each alone,
Found offering faithful prayer:--
No thought, no word, no sigh, in vain,
Conceived, or utter'd there,
Could miss the mark; like genial rain
Blessings would fall on prayer.
When field and forest, plant and flower
The dews of morning share,
Blade, bud, leaf, blossom, in one hour,
Alike are water'd there.
To-day while countless Sabbath bands
Are gathering every where,
Let us with them lift hearts and hands,
And all unite in Prayer.
Sacred Poems and Hymns