Come, Holy Ghost

Come, Holy Ghost, send down those beams,
Which sweetly flow in silent streams
From Thy bright throne above.
Come, Thou, the Father of the poor,
Thou bounteous source of all our store;
Come, fire our hearts with love.

Come, Thou, of comforters the best,
Come, Thou, the soul's delightful guest,
The pilgrim's sweet relief.
Thou art our rest in toil and sweat,
Refreshment in excessive heat,
And solace in our grief.

O sacred Light, shoot home Thy darts,
Oh, pierce the centre of these hearts,
Whose faith aspires to Thee.
Without Thy Godhead nothing can
Have any price or worth in man;
Nothing can harmless be.

Lord, wash our sinful stains away,
Water from heaven our barren clay;
Our wounds and bruises heal.
To Thy sweet yoke our stiff necks bend,
To inflame our cold hearts Thy fire send;
Our wandering feet repel.

Oh, grant Thy faithful, dearest Lord,
Whose only hope is Thy sure word;
The seven gifts of Thy Spirit.
Grant us in life to obey Thy grace,
Grant us in death to see Thy face;
And endless joys inherit. Amen.