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Blessed Hour of Prayer

by Kingsley Ayistar

That hour when I fall on my face,
And pour out my heart in prayer;
I perceive in that lonely place,
God's pouring presence and power.

There's no moment like the minute
When on the Spirit's wings I fly;
And from my somberness exit,
Hallowing the Father on high.

Son and Spirit have my worship;
Blood and body tremble at praise.
At the peak of longing, I weep;
Enveloped by compassion's haze

Oh! What favor it is to me,
Fresh grace and mercy to obtain!
Calling on the throne so boldly,
Telling the Master of my pain!

Then I feel His hands on me, ease
Burn my burden which comes lighter,
My heart's plight is exchange for peace--
Betok'ning an answered prayer...

Psalm 5: 3 My voice You shall hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning I will direct it to You, and I will look up.

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This poem was a finalist in the November 2013 poetry contest

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Click Here to contact Kingsley Ayistar to request permission to use this poem.