He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass: as showers that water the earth. Psalm 72:6
O Thou! Who hast a temple shrine
In every lowly, contrite soul,
Spirit of God! These lips of mine
Touch with a living altar-coal.
No costly rites I need prepare,
No rich oblations need I bring;
The humble heart, the fervent prayer,
Are Thine accepted offering.
Guide to all truth, vouchsafe Thine aid,
Control my thoughts, direct my way;
May holy fear of Thee pervade
The varied duties of each day.
Ere I begin life’s
Hushed be its feverish cares a while,
That calm reposing may I bask,
Eternal One! beneath Thy smile.
Giver and source of peace divine,
Thy will submissive would I wait;
Each pulse of heavenly life is Thine,
Descend, Thou promised Paraclete!
Not as of old, in awful power,
With rushing wind and lambent fire,
But gently, like the falling shower,
Great Spirit, come! my soul inspire!