I love to steal awhile away
From every cumbering care,
And spend the hours of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.
I love, in solitude, to shed
The penitential tear;
And all His promises to plead,
When none but God can hear.
I love to think on mercies past,
And future good implore;
And all my cares and sorrows cast
On Him whom I adore.
I love, by faith, to take a view
Of brighter scenes in heaven;
The prospect doth my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.
Thus, when life’s toilsome day is o’er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour,
And lead to endless day.
Phebe Hinsdale Brown, 1783–1861