Holy Ghost, come down upon Thy children,
Give us grace and make us Thine;
Thy tender fires within us kindle,
Blessèd Spirit, Dove divine.
For all within us good and holy
Is from Thee, Thy precious gift;
In all our joys, in all our sorrows,
Wistful hearts to Thee we lift.
For Thou to us art more than Father,
More than sister, in Thy love,
So gentle, patient, and forbearing,
Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove.
O we have grieved Thee, gracious Spirit!
Wayward, wanton, cold are we;
And still our sins, new every morning,
Never yet have wearied Thee.
Ah! Sweet Consoler, though we cannot
Love Thee as Thou lovest us,
Yet if Thou deign’st our hearts to kindle
They will not be always thus.
With hearts so vile how dare we venture,
King of kings, to love Thee so?
And how canst Thou, with such compassion,
Bear so long with things so low?