Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Unuttered or expressed;
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.
A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
Lord God, the Holy Ghost,
In this accepted hour,
As on the day of Pentecost,
On building a chapel at Cape Town, for the Negro slaves of the colony, in 1828.
Afric, from her remotest strand,
People of the living God,
I have sought the world around;
Paths of sin and sorrow trod,
Peace and comfort nowhere found:
Servants of God, in joyful lays,
Sing ye the Lord Jehovah’s praise;
His glorious Name let all adore,
From age to age, forevermore.
Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass;
Ye bars of iron, yield!
And let the King of glory pass;
The Cross is in the field!
One prayer I have - all prayers in one, -
When I am wholly thine;
Thy will, my God, thy will be done,
And let that will be mine.
Thank and Praise Jehovah’s Name;
For His mercies, firm and sure,
From eternity the same
To eternity endure.