If anyone says to this mountain, Mark 11:23
Go, throw yourself into the sea, and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him.
Words: Attributed variously to Charlemagne, Ambrose of Milan, Gregory I, & Rhabanus Maurus (Veni Creator Spiritus, Mentes tuorum visita). Translated from Latin to English by John Dryden, Miscellaneous Poems 1693.
Music: Carey’s Surrey Henry Carey, 1723. Harmony from The English Hymnal (London: Oxford University Press, 1906), number 491 (🔊 pdf nwc).
Creator Spirit, by whose aid
The world’s foundations first were laid,
Come, visit every waiting mind;
Come, pour Thy joys on human kind;
From sin, and sorrow set us free;
And make Thy temples worthy Thee.
O source of uncreated light,
The Father’s promised Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heav’nly love inspire;
Come, and Thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us while we sing!
Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Thou strength of His almighty hand,
Whose power does Heav’n and earth command:
Proceeding Spirit, our defense,
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown Thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control;
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then, lay Thy hand, and hold them down.
Create all new; our wills control,
Subdue the rebel in our soul;
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practice all that we believe;
Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father and the Son by Thee.
Immortal honor, endless fame,
Attend th’almighty Father’s name:
The Savior Son be glorified,
Who for lost man’s redemption died:
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to Thee.