Mysterious pre­sence, source of all—
The world with­out, the soul with­in,
Fountain of life, O hear our call,
And pour Thy liv­ing wa­ters in!

Thou breath­est in the rush­ing wind;
Thy Spi­rit stirs in leaf and flow­er;
Nor wilt Thou from the will­ing mind
Withhold Thy light and love and pow­er.

Thy hand un­seen to ac­cents clear
Awoke the psalm­ist’s trem­bling lyre,
And touched the lip of ho­ly seer
With flame from Thine own al­tar fire.

That touch di­vine, still, Lord, im­part;
Still give the pro­phet’s burn­ing word;
And, vo­cal in each wait­ing heart,
Let liv­ing psalms of praise be heard.