Descend, ce­les­tial Dove,
And make Thy pre­sence known;
Reveal our Sav­ior’s love,
And seal us for Thine own;
Unblessed by Thee, our works are vain,
Nor can we e’er ac­cept­ance gain.

When our in­car­nate God,
The so­ver­eign Prince of Light,
In Jor­dan’s swell­ing flood,
Received the ho­ly rite,
In op­en view Thy form came down,
And dove-like flew, the King to crown.

The day was ne­ver known,
Since time be­gan its race,
On which such glo­ry shone,
On which was shown such grace,
As that which shed, in Jor­dan’s stream,
On Je­sus’ head, the heav’n­ly beam.

Continue still to shine,
And fill us with Thy fire:
This or­di­nance is Thine,
Do Thou our souls in­spire!
Thou wilt at­tend on all Thy sons:
Till time shall end, Thy pro­mise runs.