O heav’n­ly fount of light and love,
Adoring praise to Thee we pay;
Pour down, blest Spi­rit, from above
Fresh streams of grace this day.

Thou, o’er the ev­er­last­ing Son
Hovering with wings of liv­ing light
Anointed Is­ra­el’s cham­pi­on
To fight the aw­ful fight.

At Pen­te­cost Thou cam­est down
As sound of rush­ing wind went by,
With tongues of hea­ven­ly fire to crown
That glo­ri­ous com­pa­ny.

Thou on each new-born child of grace
Dost now in hid­den pow­er des­cend
To strength­en for life’s wea­ry race,
To com­fort and de­fend.

Thou in each meek and low­ly heart,
With streams of liv­ing wa­ters bright,
Sweet Fount of strength and glad­ness art,
Fresh Spring of life and light.

Thee, Spi­rit blest, All-Ho­ly One,
In songs of tri­umph we adore,
For, with the Fa­ther and the Son,
Thou reign­est ev­er­more.