O for that flame of liv­ing fire,
Which shone so bright in saints of old!
Which bade their souls to Heav’n as­pire,
Calm in dis­tress, in dan­ger bold.

Where is that Spi­rit, Lord, which dwelt
In Ab­ra­ham’s breast, and sealed him Thine?
Which made Paul’s heart with sor­row melt,
And glow with en­er­gy di­vine?

That Spi­rit which, from age to age,
Proclaimed Thy love, and taught Thy ways?
Brightened Isai­ah’s vi­vid page,
And breathed in­to Da­vid’s hal­lowed lays?

Is not Thy grace as migh­ty now
As when Eli­jah felt its pow­er;
When glo­ry beamed from Mos­es’ brow,
Or Job en­dured the try­ing hour?

Remember, Lord, the an­cient days;
Renew Thy work; thy grace re­store;
Warm our cold hearts to pray­er and praise,
And teach us how to love Thee more.