O Holy Dove, as­sist my love,
Give my soul swift wings to fly,
And reach the Palm, whose won­drous balm
Fragrance yields that fills the sky:
There God our Lord, th’In­car­nate Word,
Glorious friend of our lost race,
Hung, wound­ed sore, and bruis­ed all o’er,
Meekly bear­ing all dis­grace.

My heart, awake! O Je­su, take
Pity; save me; re­fuge give;
And op­en wide Thy bleed­ing side,
Hidden there my soul shall live,
And peace­ful dwell, se­cure from hell,
Free from ev­ery world­ly snare:
No mount­ain cave such rest e’er gave
Hunted wan­der­ers shel­tered there.

O Love Di­vine, for ev­er mine,
Didst Thou suf­fer, Lord, for me
Amazing loss? and did the cross
Wring Thy soul with ago­ny?
Yes, Lord, that tree did tor­ture Thee,
Though no sin at all was Thine;
For my foul guilt Thy blood was spilt;
Now life through Thy death is mine.

It seems too much to make me such,
Dearest Lord, as Thou hast done;
Oh, while I live, my­self I give;
Take the heart which Thou hast won:
O bless­èd love, born from above,
Unconquered Thou, while con­quer­ing all;
Before Thy breath, strong­er than death,
Harmless all his darts must fall.

Though dead in sins, new life begins,
Wrought in me by love’s sweet might;
Illustrious fire, burn on: blaze high­er:
Melt this froz­en heart out­right:
O Christ, in­flame, through Thy dear name,
My loved soul with love of Thee;
To hold Thee e’er, to leave Thee ne’er—
Give, Oh, give this pow­er to me.