The Bower of Prayer

The Bower of Prayer
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To leave my dear friends and with neighbors to part,
And go from my home, it affecte not my heart,
Like the thoughts of absenting myself for a day
From that blessed retreat where I’ve chosen to pray.

Dear bower, where the pine and the poplar have spread,
And woven their branches a roof o’er my head:
How oft have I knelt on the evergreen there,
And poured out my soul to my Savior in prayer,

The early shrill notes of the loved nightingale.
That welt in my bower, I observed as my hell,
To call me to duty, while birds in the air
Sung anthems of praises as 1 went to prayer.

How sweet were the zephyrs perfumed by the pine,
The ty, the balsam, and wild eglantine!
But sweeter, oh! sweeter, superlative were
The joys I’ve lasted in answer to prayer.

For Jesus, my Savior, oft deigned there to meet.
And blessed with his presence my humble retreat,
Oft filled me with rapture and blessedness there,
Inditing with heaven’s own language my prayer.

Dear bower, I must leave you and bld you adleu,
And pay my devotions in parts that are now.
Well knowing my my favior realdes everywhere.
And can in all places give answer to prayer.

Through cold winds and storms o’er mountains ко.
Press onward to glory and leave all below.
For here is no elty for me to repair
Fil follow my Savior; he’s answered my prayer.