Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, unuttered of expressed,<br>The motion of a hidden fire that trembles in the breast.<br><br>Prayer is the burden or a sigh, the falling of a tear,<br>The upward glancing of the eye, when none but God is near.<br><br>Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, the Christian’s native air,<br>His watchword at the gates of death; he enters heaven with prayer.<br><br>Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice, returning from his ways,<br>While angels in their songs rejoice and cry, “Behold, he prays!”<br><br>O Thou by whom we come to God, the Life, the Truth, the way,<br>The path of prayer Thyself hast trod; Lord, teach us how to pray.<br><br>……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..<br><br>My God, is any hour so sweet, from blush of morn to evening star, <br>As that which calls me to Thy feet, the hour of prayer.<br><br>Then is my strength by Thee renewed; then are my sins by Thee forgiven;<br>Then dost Thou cheer my solitude with hopes of heaven.<br><br>No words can tell what sweet relief there for my every want I find,<br>What strength for warfare, balm for grief, what peace of mind.<br><br>Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear; my spirit seems in heaven to stay;<br>And e’en the penitential tear is wiped away.<br><br>Lord, till I reach yon blissful shore, no privilege so dear shall be<br>As thus my inmost soul to pour in prayer to Thee.

When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss and pour contempt on all my pride. - Isaac Watts