Happy Hours Poem by John Bowring

Happy hour in which I rise
From the mists of selfish cares,
From this vale of vanities,
From this scene of woes and tears,
Seeking a sublimer goal
For a heaven-aspiring soul.


Happy hour in which I hold
Sweet communion with my God;
When the book of life, unrolled,
Shows the upward, onward road,
Which conducts to heaven, where rest,
Peace, and joy, await the blest.


Happy hour in which I taste
Some sweet promise of the day,
Which the present and the past
Light with hope's serenest ray;
Throwing o'er a future bliss
All the brightest beams of this.