Sweet Hour of Prayer

William Walford, 1772 - 1850
William B. Bradbury, 1816 - 1868

Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour.
Acts 3:1

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Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father's throne
Make all my wants and wishes known;
In seasons of distress and grief
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the tempter's snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
The joy I feel, the bliss I share
With those whose anxious spirits burn
With strong desires for thy return!
With such I hasten to the place
Where God, my Saviour, shows His face,
And gladly take my station there,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To Him whose truth and faithfulness
Engage the waiting soul to bless;
And since He bids me seek His face,
Believe His Word, and trust His grace,
I'll cast on Him my ev'ry care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
May I thy consolation share,
Till, from Mount Pisgah's lofty height,
I view my home and take my flight.
This robe of flesh I'll drop, and rise
To seize the everlasting prize;
And shout, while passing thro' the air,
Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer.

The History of Sweet Hour of Prayer

The words to Sweet Hour of Prayer appeared in The New York Observer, September 13, 1845, accompanied by the following, written by Thomas Salmon:

During my residence at Coleshill, Warwickshire, England, I became acquainted with W. W. Walford, the blind preacher, a man of obscure birth and connections and no education, but of strong mind and most retentive memory. In the pulpit he never failed to select a lesson well adapted to his subject, giving chapter and verse with unerring precision and scarcely ever misplacing a word in his repetition of the Psalms, every part of the New Testament, the prophecies, and some of the histories, so as to have the reputation of “knowing the whole Bible by heart.” He actually sat in the chimney corner, employing his mind in composing a sermon or two for Sabbath delivery, and his hands in cutting, shaping and polishing bones for shoe horns and other little useful implements. At intervals he attempted poetry. On one occasion, paying him a visit, he repeated two or three pieces which he had composed, and having no friend at home to commit them to paper, he had laid them up in the storehouse within. “How will this do?” asked he, as he repeated the following lines, with a complacent smile touched with some light lines of fear lest he subject himself to criticism. I rapidly copied the lines with my pencil, as he uttered them, and sent them for insertion in the Observer, if you should think them worthy of preservation.

William Walford of Coleshill, England was a wood-carver by trade and the owner of a small trinket shop. He was also a devout Christian and often the guest preacher in the churches around the area where he lived.

One day, in 1842, the Reverend Thomas Salmon, a congregational minister, made his customary call at the shop of a friend. On this occasion, instead of showing the minister his beautiful collection of hand carved ornaments, Walford asked Mr. Salmon to write down the words of a poem he had just completed.

Three years later the Reverend Salmon was in New York city and, while there, took the old wood-carver's poem along to the editor of the New York Observer, As a result, Sweet Hour Of Prayer appeared in the issue for September 1845.

Nothing happened for another fourteen years. Then the famous composer, William Bradbury, set the poem to music and turned it into one of the most famous hymns of all time.

Lifted on the wings of Bradbury's beautiful melody the words soon sped around the globe and in a short time were being sung by millions.

I mentioned earlier that William Walford had asked the minister to write down the words of his poem for him. The simple reason for this was that Walford himself was blind - he couldn't see to write.

He wasn't blind spiritually though. The eyes of his soul could see perfectly clearly. It took a rate insight to write such a meaningful and blessed sacred song as this.

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Revelation 4:7-8

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