Sweet Hour of Prayer

Mema died on Holy Saturday around 5:45pm. Her nurse said she would die on Friday, but she kept on fighting, though unconscious. Some of the women suggested she hadn't been able to say goodbye to everyone she wanted to say goodbye to. Another said it was my father, Nigel, who hadn't been to see her yet, whom she wanted to say goodbye to. Never doubt a mother's intuition. On Saturday afternoon, my dad went to visit Mema. He cried and whispered that he loved her in her ear. A few moments afterward, while he was there, Mema quietly stopped breathing, her daughters and grandchildren at her side. I was there in the room and saw it with my own eyes.

In her Bible, Mema had an index card with a list of her favorite gospel songs. Mema from her youngest years loved to go to singings, both gospel singings and "fa-sol-la" singings (as they called Sacred Harp music). When she was in the garden I remember her soft voice singing gospel songs as she worked.

One of the songs on her list was Sweet Hour of Prayer. I love this song:

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 joys I feel, the bliss I share,

Of those whose anxious spirits burn

With strong desires for thy return!

With such I hasten to the place

Where God my Savior 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 every 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 through the air,

“Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer!”