Come, Thou Ho­ly Spir­it, come!
And from Thy ce­les­ti­al home
Shed a ray of light di­vine!
Come, Thou Fa­ther of the poor!
Come, Thou Source of all our store!
Come, within our bo­soms shine!

Thou, of com­fort­ers the best;
Thou, the soul’s most wel­come Guest;
Sweet re­fresh­ment here below;
In our la­bor, rest most sweet;
Grateful cool­ness in the heat;
Solace in the midst of woe.

O most bless­èd Light divine,
Shine with­in these hearts of Thine,
And our in­most be­ing fill!
Where Thou art not, man hath naught,
Nothing good in deed or thought,
Nothing free from taint of ill.

Heal our wounds, our strength re­new;
On our dry­ness pour Thy dew;
Wash the stains of guilt away;
Bend the stub­born heart and will;
Melt the froz­en, warm the chill;
Guide the steps that go as­tray.

On the faith­ful, who adore
And con­fess Thee, ev­er­more
In Thy sev’n­fold gift des­cend;
Give them vir­tue’s sure re­ward
Give them Thy sal­va­tion, Lord;
Give them joys that ne­ver end.