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 rushing 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 life, the dying hour,

Shall own my Father’s grace and power.