We all need the Lord to carry us, sometimes. It’s raining again today, my wife is sick, I fear for my sister and a couple of dear friends, the Left is sinking its fangs into my country… and if I couldn’t pray, all this stuff would crush me flat. What do you say, folks, to prayers all around? On and off all day.
Sweet Hour of Prayer, written in 1845 and sung here by the Vagle Brothers, was one of my mother’s favorite hymns.
I do wish I knew who sings this: it’s beautiful, whoever you are! Brought a lump to my throat. Sweet Hour of Prayer, a good old hymn from 1845–how many times did I hear my mother, my grandma, and my aunts hum this as they went about their daily chores?
Gorgeous background scenery by God the Father, maker of heaven and earth.
This was a hymn my mother used to sing, or hum, as she did her housework. You heard it a lot around Grandma’s house, too: Sweet Hour of Prayer. I wish I knew who was singing it in this video.
I don’t know which moves me more–the beautiful singing, the beautiful lyrics of the hymn (by William Walford, 1845), or the beautiful places in the pictures. We used to have beautiful places around here: I am sure I didn’t dream them. But if I did, the waking-up is cruel.
This is a beautiful rendition by Alan Jackson: brings a tear to my eye. Sweet Hour of Prayer was one of the hymns my mother used to play on the record player as she did her housework. I’d hear it at Grandma’s house, too, from time to time. These loving memories stir my soul; and just at this moment I don’t think it’d be wise to try to talk about them out loud. Thank you, Mr. Jackson.