Come, Holy Ghost, Cre­at­or, come
From Thy bright heav’n­ly throne;
Come, take pos­ses­sion of our souls,
And make them all Thine own.

Thou who art called the Pa­ra­clete,
Best gift of God above,
The liv­ing spring, the liv­ing fire,
Sweet unc­tion and true love.

Thou who art se­venf­old in Thy grace,
Finger of God’s right hand;
His pro­mise, teach­ing lit­tle ones
To speak and un­der­stand.

O guide our minds with Thy blest light,
With love our hearts in­flame;
And with Thy strength, which ne’er de­cays,
Confirm our mor­tal frame.

Far from us drive our dead­ly foe;
True peace un­to us bring;
And through all per­ils lead us safe
Beneath Thy sac­red wing.

Through Thee may we the Fa­ther know,
Through Thee th’eter­nal Son,
And Thee the Spir­it of them both,
Thrice-bless­èd Three in One.

All glo­ry to the Fa­ther be,
With His co-eq­ual Son:
The same to Thee, great Pa­ra­clete,
While end­less ag­es run.