1 Is there a lone and dreary hour,
When worldly pleasures lose their power; --
My Father! let me turn to Thee,
And set each thought of darkness free.

2 Is there a time of racking grief,
Which scorns the prospect of relief;
My Father! break the cheerless gloom,
And bid my heart its calm resume.

3 Is there an hour of peace and joy,
When hope is all my soul's employ; --
My Father! still my hopes will roam,
Until they rest with Thee, their home.

4 The noontide blaze, the midnight scene,
The dawn, or twilight's sweet serene,
The glow of health, the dying hour,
Shall own my Father's grace and power.