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Sheaves of Grain


Private Prayer
When darkness casts its curtain round
The varied pleasures of the light,
When mid-day life is no where found,
But all is still and lonely night:
Removed from every worldly snare,
How great the joy of private prayer.

And should affliction’s hand severe,

Of chiefest joy thy heart bereave,
What then can stay the gushing tear?
What then prevent the sigh to heave?
Yet – sweet to think – in every care,
God hearkens to the secret prayer.

Tho’ not with words nor language stored,

It is a prayer if only thought;
The telling of the soul to God
The many wants the heart has taught.
And tho’ alone, HE will be there
To treasure up thy private prayer.